False Starts Buffy the Vampire Slayer
by Diresquirrel
Summary: A series of story ideas that never went anywhere. A few work well as one shots but are a bit short, others are shards of ideas that may or may not be expanded. Some good, some not so much.
1. Giles, Rupert Giles

**Giles, Rupert Giles**

* * *

_A Halloween fic. Basically the same as Cannon, except that Giles turns into a certain British Super Spy at the behest of his charge. _

_Jenny like._

* * *

"Hey! Let's get Giles a costume," Buffy whispered conspiratorially to her friends. They had already purchased their own costumes and had a little money left over.

"Ooo! I know, since he's English, let's get him a Doctor Who scarf!" Willow suggested. Buffy wasn't convinced.

"What's Dr. Who?" She gave her friend a look usually used towards her overly stuffy Watcher.

"Ladies, I think I have our solution," Xander said, holding up a package. The girls glanced at it and squealed.

* * *

"Giles! We bought you a present," Buffy announced as they strode through the library doors. She brandished a costume that they had all pitched in to buy earlier.

"Buffy, I hardly think there is any reason for me to dress up in a tuxedo," Giles said, taking the costume from her outstretched hands.

"It's a special Tuxedo, we got it 'cuz you're all English and stuff," Willow said with an excited look on her face.

"Giles, it's a simple matter of tit for tat," Xander said with a shrug. "We suffer therefore so should you."

"Oh, dear lord," Giles said with an exasperated sigh before cleaning his glasses. "I suppose I will wear it tonight." He was rewarded by twin squeals of delight. He slipped into his office and a few moments later he had changed into his costume.

"Well done, Giles," Xander said with a nod.

"All three of you conspired to get me to dress up as James Bond," asked Giles as he pulled the Walther PPK from its holster under his jacket.

"Say it!" Commanded Buffy with undisguised glee. Giles glanced at her and sighed.

"Very well," he replied under his breath. "Bond, James Bond."

Buffy bounced up and down with glee.

"Rupert, looking classy this evening," said an appreciative Jenny Calendar as she walked through the doors. She glanced at the Scooby Gang with a smile. "Good work you guys."

"May I get out of this now," asked the exasperated librarian.

"No!" came the reply from four directions. Jenny turned to the Scoobies and motioned them to go.

"Don't you three have to go take kids around town?" The three quickly ran away.

"May I please change into my usual clothing," Rupert pleaded. Jenny simply brushed a hand across his chest and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Don't you dare."

* * *

Everything had gone to hell. Xander was a soldier, Buffy was a weakling, and Willow was a ghost, a very panicked ghost who really wanted to be back in her body. She ran to the school library, passing through every physical obstacle in her way to save time. What she found in the library was not what she was expecting.

Giles and Ms. Calendar were rather…indisposed. Without clothing. Any clothing. And there was screaming. The good kind of screaming. And empty martini glasses. And a shaker, not a stirrer. And Willow had walked in. And couldn't bring her self to walk out.

"eep," was all she managed to get out. At the sound, Giles spun himself and Ms. Calendar around and shot Willow through the head with his PPK. Willow was very happy she had gone as a ghost.

"Giles! You shot me!"

"And yet you still live," Giles replied. He turned his attention back to Ms. Calendar who was still intent on their other activity. "Who is Giles?"

"You expect me to answer that," asked Jenny with disbelieving look.

"You are!" Willow's eyes were about the size of dinner plates. Her eyes drifted…downward. And then she snapped them back up. Eyecontact was important.

"You are quite mistaken young lady," Giles said. "My name is Bond, James Bond."

"No you're not, you just think you are," Willow said, trying to keep her eyes from straying. "It's the costume that's doing this! Well maybe not entirely the costume, but Imeanitsnotlikethisisn'tsomethingthatIhaven'theardabout."

"Young lady, come back in an hour and we can discuss this," Giles said, but then glanced down at Jenny. "Make that two hours." Willow's eyes, if it could be believed, grew even wider. With another eep she ran through the wall. Bond rolled his eyes and turned back to Jenny Calendar.

After a couple of minutes, Jenny pressed her palm against his chest, pushing him away. "Rupert, I mean, _James_. You should really go help. I'll be waiting when you're done." She pulled away and started putting on her bra. "I'm going to get dressed."

"Oh, don't bother on my account," commented Giles.

"And so should you," commanded Jenny with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh the things I do for England."

* * *

A moment after the Watcher/Spy left the room, Jenny Calendar, rested her chin in her hands with a huff.

"Stupid Hellmouth, I thought he was just getting into character."

* * *

_I don't own Buffy or James Bond._

_Where I was going with this? Not a clue. I just busted it out one night._


	2. What if Buffy was from Maine?

**I am Uatu-What if Buffy was from Maine?**

* * *

_The first of several ideas I had along these lines. What if Buffy wasn't raised Californian? And since Maine and California are practically different cultures, this seemed to fit._

* * *

"I am Uatu, the Watcher. I have seen many worlds and seen the many possibilities of each Earth. What happens in one, may not happen in another. A small, seemingly insignificant change can have drastic changes to a reality. Sometimes it can be as minor as buying the last Danish, in others it is a death. There are countless possibilities and I have viewed them. Come with me as we watch one such possibility.

"Many know of the tale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. How she defeated the master vampires Lothos, the Master and Angelus. They know of the Defeat of the Mayor and the Quest to Save the Key. How a valley girl saved the world time and time again and eventually gave the First Evil its greatest defeat in memory.

"But that is not the only possibility. There are countless others. But what if Buffy Summers was not raised in California? What if Buffy Summers was raised in Maine?"

* * *

In this world, Buffy Summers was raised in Greene, Maine, and burned down the school gym while fighting the Master Vampire Lothos. Upon hearing this, the citizens of Maine School Administrative District 52 cheered, because it forced the state to give them money to build a new one after thirty years of leaky roofs, warped floors and rusty lockers. It was officially listed as an "accidental" problem with hot lights and prom decorations.

During the subsequent divorce, Joyce Summers decided to open a new gallery and found a wonderful one based in Sunnydale, California where there was an incredibly cheap housing for sale as well. And so, the two Summers women moved all the way across the country to their destiny.

"Uatu, who are you talking to?" Buffy asked, causing the Being to jump. Uatu quickly glanced at the readers and then back at Buffy and shrugged.

"No one here but me," he lied poorly.

* * *

"Buffy, enjoy your first day at school," Joyce said as the girl stepped out of the jeep.

"Mom, I'll be fine," the slayer said with a smile. At least that is what she had hoped. In reality it was much more complex. Buffy, dressed in a white shirt and jeans walked through the southern Californian high school like a fish out of water. This was nothing like Maine. Back home they would still be wearing flannel shirts and sturdy boots for mud season. Here in Sunnydale, it was stifling hot, but at least it was a dry heat. She missed the woods, the Spring and the mountains. In the short time she had already been at school, she had been run into and messed up twice. She was lucky that her Slayer abilities had kept things from being a complete disaster. In history a nice, a stuck up girl had helped her along, but Cordelia Chase seemed to be looking more for another minion rather than a friend.

Buffy decided to head to the library to see if she could get her own school books. Once there she met her new Watcher for the first time.

"I'm looking for a book…" before the words were out of her mouth, the librarian had placed a book entitled "Vampyr" on the counter. "…but not that one. Watcher I assume?"

"Yes, you are Buffy Summers, correct?"

Buffy thought he was a bit goofy really; what with that British accent and over enthusiasm for his work.

"So, I take it, slaying Lothos wasn't enough for you guys?" Buffy asked slowly.

"Ah, no, the position of the Slayer is a calling," replied the man. "Sorry, Rupert Giles, member of the Watcher's Council and Sunnydale High School Librarian."

"Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer and high school student," she replied, holding out a hand. After a quick shake, she looked him in the eye. "Do I really need another watcher? I mean, Uatu is hanging out at my house a lot so I figured one was enough."

"Uatu? Who, or what perhaps, is that?"

"Oh, he's the Watcher," Buffy said as if it explained everything. Her Maine accent was pretty thick. She said it as "watchah" and tended to add an R to words ending in A's. Buffy glanced around and leaned in close and whispered conspiratorially: _"I think he's got a thing for my mom."_

"Oh, er," Giles said intelligently. He reached down behind the counter and pulled up a crossbow. "So when would you like to start your training?"

"I was thinking maybe this week. You should come out to our house. I'm setting up an archery range. I figure I'll go shoot skeet a little later, you can come along for that."

"Uh, vampires are not stopped well with guns," Giles said, correcting her.

"Oh, they are with my shells," Buffy said. "So do you have a copy of a history book I could borrow?"

"Ah, yes, there are still a few back here," Giles said, pointing to his office. He ran back to get a copy and handed it to her over the counter. "I must admit, you are not exactly what I was expecting when they told me to come to California."

"Hey! I'm a Maine girl at heart," she protested before walking out the doors.

From deep the stacks, Alexander Harris, better known as Xander glanced out as the two crazy people, librarian and transfer student, went back to their business. He wasn't quite sure what he had heard, but it sure wasn't normal. And what librarians kept loaded crossbows under the desks?

* * *

"I'm telling you Jesse, she's weird," Xander said in the Bronze that night. "Jesse, stop staring at Cordy and listen to me."

"I am listening. I'm also watching Cordy dance," Jesse said, staunchly not looking at Xander. "Of course the new girl's gonna be different, she's from all the way across the country. She's from a state that's almost surrounded by Canada, of course she's gonna be weird."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Xander said. He pointed to the balcony. "She's hanging out with the school librarian upstairs."

"Maybe she's got a thing for older guys?"

"That's just gross and you know it," Willow put in. "I think she's really nice. She even stood up to Cordy for me."

"Well, she's got spine, I'll give you that," Jesse said, his eyes only drifting back to his friends when Cordy vanished from his sight. "And besides, Xander's got a crush on her. Why else would he be talking this much about her?"

"Oh, come on! I don't even know her!"

"Look at this," Giles said, "It's the perfect feeding ground."

"Yep. Pool table, corner pocket," Buffy said. At his confused look she pointed. "Pleather coat and mullet. Looks good on MacGyver in the 80s, not on anyone else at any other time. And no one wears pleather anymore. I bet he got bit about 13-17 years ago. That's very Thriller."

"Are you sure? Fashion sense is hardly a proper method of vampire identification," Giles chided.

"Yes. I've got plenty of experience in these things. And besides," Buffy said with a shrug, "we don't respect mullets in Maine either. He's headed to the door with the blonde. I'd better go stop him."

When Buffy exited the building, she nearly ran into Cordy and Company. Luckily no weapons were visible.

"Whoa, Buffy, what's the hurry?"

"Sorry Cordy," She leaned out to glance down the alley beyond them. "I just saw a guy who was on a certain list taking a girl out of the club."

"List?" the blond behind Cordy asked. The brunette leader rolled her eyes.

"The sex offender's list! Harm, you need to learn these things," one of the minions said with a huff.

"Yeah, so I'm going to go keep him from doing something she'll regret," Buffy said, sprinting beyond them. Once she was out of sight, she could see the vampire already feeding on the woman. Efficient as always, Buffy just stabbed him in the back, piercing the heart, pulling the stake out as soon as possible. She didn't even go into the banter. "Are you okay?"

The girl slumped forward, blood dripping from her neck. "I guess not." She dragged the girl back to where Cordy and her friends were staying. "Cordy, call an ambulance. She's lost a lot of blood."

Soon enough, girl was on her way to the hospital and the cops were satisfied. Cordelia was impressed. "So you're a regular heroine."

"Nah," Buffy said, waving off the praise. "Just doing what anyone would. I don't trust strange men taking teens from clubs."

"That could have been Harm," said another one. Everyone knew only Harmony was stupid enough to go off with some guy she didn't know.

"Well, glad you're safe, move in numbers, don't go home with strange guys, and day time parties are so much more fun."

* * *

Later that night, Buffy went out vampire hunting. Most Slayers in the past did this with a stake and not much else. Some might have leveled up to a sword or an axe. Buffy chose a shotgun.

Normally this would have been an issue, but Buffy was an avid hunter, having shot her first deer at seven and done so similarly every year since. Tonight, she was after more dangerous game. Three people had shown up at the morgue with suspicious neck wounds. Buffy scoped out the graveyard, put up a bit of netting, buttoned up her red and black flannel shirt and waited for the vamp to rise. When it crawled out of grave, Buffy Summers aimed with perfect precision.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Three shots right at the head and chest. Frantically the vampire clawed at its face and chest, trying to get the shot out as smoke and tiny flames billowed from the countless little wounds.

"Ha! Take that you piece of crap," Buffy said. Pulling a stake from her pants she slammed it in the incapacitated vamp's chest, sending dust billowing around. She then started moving towards her next target when a cop suddenly appeared. There she was, standing in a graveyard, shotgun in hand.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, sorry officer, I was just trying to scare off some animals that were getting too close," she bluffed. She pulled a shell from her pants. "It's just rocksalt." The officer pulled out a knife and opened up the shell. Inside were countless tiny crosses forged out of brass. "Oops, wrong shell."

He looked at her, looked at the shotgun, and looked at the grave where something had clearly just crawled out of. "Right, just rocksalt. Just be a little more aware of your surroundings next time."

"Certainly officer," she said with a grin.

"What is that, a twelve gauge?"

"Yep, pump action, twelve shot mag. She's a real beaute," Buffy said, holding up the gun for him to see. "I usually hunt with slugs, but well, different prey need different ammo."

"I suppose they do, well carry on," he said, wandering back to his car.

From their hiding place, Willow, Xander and Jesse watched as the new girl waved the cop goodbye. A moment later they noticed they weren't alone.

"Just a little midnight snack, the Master will approve," said a sultry voice, slurred slightly from the fangs sprouting from her mouth. The outcast trio were set upon, but still managed to get out a good scream. Buffy was there just in time to see the vamps dragging her schoolmates through the graveyard. Using all of her Slayer speed, Buffy ran towards them, reloading the shotgun as she went. With a full magazine, she ran up to the first vamp, pulled it off of the redhead and pulled the trigger. The vamp began screaming in pain as the cross-shaped shot burned into its flesh. Stake and dust. Buffy charged after the next one, repeating the sequence, pull, shotgun and stake. The last one, tugging a boy she didn't know was further away, already dragging him into a tomb.

Buffy ran, pulling the boy's arm before he could be dragged inside. Blood was already dripping from his neck. She felt his arm pop out of its socket and the boy screamed. She kicked the vamp in the chest, forcing her to let go.

* * *

**Random Scene 1:**

"Hey, Uatu, what are you doing hiding behind that tree?" Buffy asked the large headed being who was currently hiding behind a Douglas Fir. The individual jumped and glanced nervously.

"Uh, nothing, nothing at all, except for doing some Watching," Uatu replied nervously.

"Yeah, and the fact that my mom was cooking dinner didn't have anything to do with it, eithah?" Buffy asked as the Being sweated at the implication.

* * *

_Where I was going with this? Well, I didn't want to do an exact remake of the series, but I considered doing a few episodes that would really show the difference. And show how Buffy's a girl who knows her guns, likes to hunt and is more liberal than most of the US. And no, those aren't contradictions. Uatu was going to have an unrequited love affair with Joyce. Buffy wouldn't have had an affair with Angel and would have leaned more towards Xander or Jesse in romance, and maybe moved to Oz later on. She wouldn't have the same kind of angst about issues either. Cordy and the Cordettes were going to be turned early on (With Cordy as their leader/Sire) and be a continuing threat._

_This was written some time ago, so I don't know about continuing it anymore._

_Oh, and I don't own Buffy, Marvel or any other references in this chapter._


	3. Nothing You Can Possess

**Nothing You Can Possess...**

* * *

_Stargate SG1/Buffy is no ownership by me to any of the characters, nor does anyone I know own the characters below. I think you'll find that MGM and Joss W. hold dominion over them. There's another crossing in this that I also don't own. I bet most people can guess it.  
_

_I am interested in opening this up for a collaboration if people want to continue it. I haven't done any yet, so I think it would be fun. Email me and let's talk._

* * *

"Xander, I'm glad you're back," Giles said. They were in the new office. It had a big desk that never got used, books that got used frequently and a pair of nice comfy chairs in the Spanish Inquisition style.

"Why do I not like that tone?"

"Because we're going to repeat a conversation you never enjoy," Giles said. The one eyed man rolled his eye.

"_Fray Adjacent_," he said sarcastically. "Not this again."

"Yes, well that last incident with the Karlov demons has set a new record for complaints about you getting injured," Giles said leaning back in his chair.

"I'm not going to quit doing this, you know that," Xander protested, not for the first time. "Buffy and Wills know-"

"No, I think they well understand why you do this," Giles said. "It was your little baby slayers, as you call them. They want to wrap you in cotton and store you in a safe so you never get hurt."

"Not going to happen."

"I know, which is why I want to offer you a compromise," Giles said.

"Good-for-me compromise, or good-for-worrying-slayers-Keys-and-witches compromise?"

"I actually hope this will be a true compromise," Giles said. "I want you to head up a new division."

"You're not making me REMF-Xander," he argued.

"No, Of course not," Giles said. "Willow came up with the idea, Buffy suggested you to head it up. It's come to our attention that there are a number of girls who are just not as skilled at combat as they are at other pursuits. No one wants them hurt, but they still want to help."

"Not a babysitter."

"Once again, I agree with you, your talents are very important to us and you are the best for the position," Giles explained. "Most of these women are older than you are, some younger, still Slayers, but either have strict religious rules against violence, or are simply not wired for hand to hand combat so much as acrobatics and infiltration, or are experienced with firearms and refuse certain other techniques. Most of them still want to help, but until now we didn't really have a place for them."

"Go on, I'm listening," Xander said, not sure where this was going.

"And it just so happens that there are a number of world wide artifacts that-" The expression on Xander's face cause the next words to falter. "-that need retrieval and you've already figured it out."

Xander wore a grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat jealous.

"Do you think you can do it?"

"Can I wear the hat?"

…

…

"Yes, Xander, you can wear the hat."

* * *

_Somewhere in Borneo:_

Dr. Daniel Jackson had just tracked down another piece of the latest alien puzzle. It was a device that was rumored to help speak with the dead, or even bring them back to life, so the legends said. From what he hypothesized it was a remnant from some minor Goa'uld that posed as a near-forgotten local deity, something like a hand device crossed with the powers of a sarcophagus. Having made his way into the jungle temple, he had been forced to make his way carefully through the traps until he found the secret lab.

He hated having to do things this way. It was just so _unprofessional_.

Snatching the item from it's shelf (it looked a lot like a baby's rattle), he carefully put it in the containment unit for transport. Making his way back out through the traps once more, he found himself surrounded by heavily armed young women. They were a diverse group with a wide variety of skin tones and accents. Glancing around he realized his entire team of military backup was knocked unconscious by blows to the head. He saw one helmet that was quite clearly crushed.

The archaeologist sighed. Not again…

"Once again, Dr. Jackson, we see that there is nothing you can possess that I cannot take away," quoted an all too familiar voice.

"Damnit Harris!" Jackson moaned.

* * *

To be continued?

* * *

_Where am I going with this? Well, it was going to be a series of short stories that have both Daniel and Xander going after the same artifacts which are occasionally magical and occasionally technological. They don't always get the right one to the right organization. I have visions of Xander sending a priceless Ancient artifact through FedEX or UPS with very little padding, something that sends Jackson up the wall._

_As I said above, I'd like to team up with some people to develop this, but if not, it's probably going to stay here in the False Starts folder._


	4. A Different Summers Family

**A Faery Tale**

* * *

_Okay, so a while back I was challenged to write a fic where Joyce gets superpowers. I was complaining about people giving Xander superpowers all the time and Chikageko called me on it._

_Thanks go to Greywizard for everything editing related._

* * *

**Years Ago:**

"Momma, tell me the story again," four year old Buffy asked. Joyce grinned and pulled the little bundle of trouble into her lap.

"Are you sure? I seem to remember you telling it to your cousin the other day," Joyce said with a smile. "I bet you know all the words."

"Yeah, but I likes it better when you tells it." The little girl had a begging face that could move mountains. The pout was worse. Hank simply couldn't resist - not that Joyce was much better, she would reluctantly admit.

"Okay," she said. "Once upon a time, there was a magical kingdom. It was the most beautiful kingdom in all the world."

"And there was a pretty peasant girl, too!"

"Yes, there was," Joyce said. "She was smart and beautiful and loved living in the magical kingdom. But one day, some terrible warlocks attacked the magic kingdom, pulling them all into darkness."

"The peasant girl wasn't afraid, I bet," Buffy said, even though she'd heard the story a hundred times before.

"Oh, she was very scared, but just when everything was at its scariest, a charming warrior arrived and saved her," Joyce said. "He lead her away and she swore to help him save the Kingdom."

"That was when the good Wizard showed up, right?"

"Right you are," she said with a grin. Buffy really did know the story by the pure memorization of a child.

"The good wizard helped the Warrior and gave him many charms of protection," Joyce explained. "Together, the three of them fought to save the kingdom. But the Warlocks were petty and cruel, so they destroyed the Kingdom instead of keeping it for themselves. The trio were consumed with sadness, but they fought on and tried to punish the Warlocks."

"Then it was the curse," Buffy said with a grim look.

"Yes, the warlocks put a curse on the saddened Warrior, and poisoned his heart," Joyce said. "They turned him into a monster. The peasant girl and the wizard fought to save him, but it was too late, and the curse too strong. The Wizard was pained by the loss of his friend. He knew the peasant girl loved the Warrior, and so the Wizard cast a magic spell on a ship that let the peasant girl travel to a new kingdom, where she could live happily ever after."

"What happened in the new kingdom, momma?"

"She lived happily ever after," Joyce said simply.

"What does that mean?"

"Some times I wonder."

* * *

_One Day After Acathla _

"If you go out that door, don't bother coming back," Joyce muttered to herself, paraphrasing her words to her daughter only a day before.

And she hadn't come back.

Vampires? Demons?

They weren't supposed to exist and yet, Buffy was this Chosen One, the Slayer destined to fight them.

"Dammit! She was supposed to be normal!" she cried to herself. "She wasn't supposed to live this kind of life!"

She slumped back in her chair. She was still there, hours later, when the phone rang. Hoping it was Buffy, she sprang up and pulled it off the receiver.

"Buffy?" she asked, only to slump in disappointment as she discovered it was a male voice asking for her daughter.

"No, rather, I was hoping to reach her," the cultured, English voice answered.

"She, no, she never came back," Joyce said. There was a long moment of pained silence. Joyce finally broke it with a puzzled question. "Who are you?"

"Rupert Giles," he answered. "I'm the librarian at Buffy's school. There was an attack and-"

"I know, the police were looking for her," Joyce said. "Are you the one? Are you the one who got her into this? Because if you are…"

"Er-this?" the man asked, poorly disguising his surprise at the question.

"You are, aren't you?"

"I, er, I don't know what you are referring to, Mrs. Summers, but-"

"That's it," she snarled. "Where are you?"

"Sunnydale Memorial -"

"Stay there," she commanded. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

* * *

"How can this be?" Joyce demanded angrily after arriving at the hospital.

"You have to understand Mrs. Summers," Giles began. "Buffy has little choice in this. If she tries to ignore her destiny, the demons will simply seek her out and attack her in her ignorance. As a Watcher, it is my responsibility to make sure she knows what she needs to, in the hopes that she will survive as best and as long as she can."

"None of this is supposed to be real!" Joyce said, running her fingers through her hair in her distress. "It wasn't supposed to be like this when we came here. She was supposed to be normal; to be able to fit in."

"I - I'm sorry," Giles said from his hospital bed. "How is she?"

"I don't know," Joyce replied grimly. The librarian's eyes widened with fear.

"But she -" Giles said, cutting himself off. "We're still here… She might well be in pain."

"We had words when this came out," Joyce admitted, half to Giles and half to herself. "Hearing what that thing had to say - I didn't take it well. I think she ran off."

Giles looked into her eyes for a long moment until he was sure he had her attention. "Mrs. Summers – Joyce - I swear that I will do whatever I can to find her and bring her back."

"You had better," Joyce said in a voice that could have sent even the most stalwart master vampire running for the hills.

"I will," he swore again. Joyce looked at him for a silent moment, nodded, and walked out of the hospital without another word.

Even knowing the danger, she walked through the night. Through the streets, through the warehouse district and down to the beach, where the moon reflected off the waves. She heard the quiet steady noise of the water slapping against the shore like a heartbeat of the earth.

"I don't know what to do," she said to the emptiness. "I had everything planned out. A fresh start. A new place to live for me and my baby girl."

She reached inside her shirt and pulled out a necklace. It was large, golden colored crystals framing a diamond shaped gem that was the blue of a clear sky in July. The blonde woman flipped it over and gazed at it thoughtfully as she ran her thumb over the familiar symbol inscribed on the back.

With a bit of extra effort, she pulled at the symbol, letting the blue gemstone slide from its setting.

She juggled it lightly in one hand, as if to judge its weight, and then she pulled her arm back and threw it with all her might into the ocean.

* * *

_Three years later:_

"How is your mother?" Giles asked at the Magic Box.

"She's still sick," Buffy said quietly.

"Is she seeing a doctor?"

"Oh, we've got a whole team of doctors to do lots of tests and tell us diddly," Buffy confirmed. "She's been ditching me and Dawn and going without us. She hasn't told us, but I think the gallery is going bust, too."

"Oh," Giles said. "Still, time and patience will reveal all soon enough."

"Sure hope so, cuz this dodging Buffy routine is getting old," the Slayer moped. There was a little more spent bonding as Buffy complained heartily about Dawn and Joyce's relationship, before Willow arrived and reminded the Slayer that Dawn wasn't just the youngest, she was the baby.

Buffy still wasn't satisfied.

* * *

**_NOW:_**

Buffy felt the blonde's fist impact her chest again and knock her backwards through the air.

After having been in so many fights over the last six years, Buffy knew full well that this "Glory" person was pulling her punches. She wanted Buffy to talk and Buffy couldn't do that if she was unconscious. Even so, it hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Where is my KEY?" the superpowered bimbo demanded, plowing Buffy through a concrete support column with a right jab. Buffy, hurting, but far from out of the fight, pretended to be more hurt than she appeared.

She gave a couple of good kicks, but Glory just laughed.

"So, you've got superpowers," taunted the creature. "Can you fly?" she jibed as she casually tossed Buffy towards a wall.

Buffy bent forward to protect her head and neck, but never impacted the concrete.

Instead, familiar hands caught her and gently set her down on the ground.

"Yes," said Joyce Summers.

Buffy looked up to find her mother dressed in royal blue silk pajamas with a crimson robe over her shoulders that flowed out behind her like a cape. She was also hovering about four feet off the floor. Joyce Summers' eyes seemed to glow red in the dark light of the warehouse.

"Yes, I can."

Buffy had the feeling that her mother wasn't quite as sick as she had believed.

* * *

_The basic idea is that Joyce is actually an old friend of Jor El's from back home who left Krypton due to certain reasons I'm not going to reveal in case I want to continue this. Buffy, while a pure Kryptonian in ancestry was changed as a baby to fit in, seemingly no different from a normal human._

_As for her becoming a Slayer, I was playing with the idea that all that was required was being born on earth, not necessarily being conceived on it._

_Dawn, on the other hand, was going to get a powerboost of flight and super-strength, but no other Kryptonian powers due to her magical origin. I was actually considering having her be used as Smallville's Wonder Woman. She was, after all, born fully formed like Athena minus the whole axe-to-the-head birthing._


	5. A Pink Halloween or GROW A SPINE DAMNIT

**GROW A SPINE DAMMIT! or A Pink Halloween**

* * *

This time it wasn't the dress that was pink.

"Hey, didn't Angel say he spent some time in China?" Willow asked as she and Buffy perused Ethan's Costume Shop. "How about a cheongsam?"

"Chee-what?" Buffy asked.

"A cheongsam-a chinese dress," Willow explained, showing off a little red number.

"Oo! Pretty!" Buffy exclaimed, pulling it off the rack and checking for size. "Perfect fit!"

Willow wisely didn't mention that it was designed for a twelve-year-old girl.

"Angel will probably like it," Willow suggested.

"It is different from the princess dress..." Buffy said as she pondered the possibilities.

* * *

Sakura awoke to hell. She didn't know where she was. The buildings didn't look like anything she'd ever seen. A short red...thing ran up and bit her on the knee. Reacting, she kicked it in the face, sending it flying off into the bushes. That only attracted the attention of more. She jumped up over their heads and started to run. When she'd finally escaped the creatures, she was accosted by a strange older woman with long red hair.

"I can't understand you!" Sakura yelled. Whatever the woman was speaking wasn't the pink haired girl's native language. When another of the creatures showed up, Sakura punched it out of instinct. She wanted to freeze, she wanted to flee, but she didn't know where she was and she didn't want to die. The strange red head was acting like Sakura should know her, but the young kunoichi had never seen someone like her, although the woman's dress did suggest she was a fellow ninja. Not understanding what was going on in this strange land, Sakura followed the girl.

Eventually they were joined a strange man with dark hair and some strange weapon that killed things at a long distance. They were led to a house that felt so familiar, but she was sure that she had never seen it before. Stepping inside it was clearly a civilian home. There were pictures on the walls, strange furniture and other odd objects that just seemed to fit perfectly. She spotted a picture of a blonde hugging her two companions. They were friends, whoever they were.

She didn't have time to explore before, the red head motioned for her to head upstairs. There, they found a room with a bed, lots of clothes and a stuffed pig. The redhead pointed to a chest in the closet and seemed to be demanding that Sakura open it up. Worried that she was breaking and entering, Sakura hesitantly opened the chest after dragging it into the middle of the room. It was filled with weapons. Most were too heavy for a girl her size, but there were a few shuriken down in the bottom of the chest. Judging by their placement, it looked like they were not a weapon of choice. The other option were a few strange wooden spikes. Grabbing a few, Sakura decided they would work for a kunai substitute. The red head smiled, as if this was exactly what she had wanted to have happen.

They walked down stairs to where a woman with rather generous proportions was yelling about the indignities of life in that strange language. The woman wore a skin tight outfit the color of Sakura's hair with strange nekomimi (fake cat ears) on her head. There was a handsome man about Kakashi-sensei's age with greased hair fighting something in the kitchen. Sakura glanced around and watched in amazement as the red head walked right through the wall as if it wasn't even there.

As soon as the woman left, creatures started pounding on the windows until they cracked. Sakura didn't recognize any of them and could only assume they possessed some strange bloodlines to have such red or green skin or claws, horns or other strange perturbations. When one window broke, Sakura screamed as the black haired man pointed his strange weapon at the attacking creatures and used some strange jutsu that filled the attackers full of holes. The noise was louder than anything the young kunoichi had ever heard. Several of creatures, mostly normal human, but with golden eyes and deformed faces, just shook off the attack. The older guy with the gelled hair grabbed one of Sakura's wooden kunai and plunged it into the creature's heart, making it explode into dust.

Her mind went into overdrive. Using what was available to her, Sakura realized that the strange, yet strong creatures must have been something similar to Naruto's Shadow Clones, but with less weaknesses. She could fight this. It was just like fighting Naruto in practice. And she could always beat Naruto, right?

The door crashed in and a blond man step up to the opening and grinned. He said something, Sakura could tell by his tone that it was a taunt, but he didn't come inside, allowing his minions to do the work for him. Sakura just let three of her wooden kunai fly. The blond leaned back, dodging all but the last shot, which missed his heart and hit him in the shoulder. The man hissed and snarled something, but Sakura could only assume it was displeasure at her action, but he didn't come inside.

It wasn't until then that Sakura realized that she had been doing this kind of thing on her own, she hadn't cowered behind anybody, not like the nekomimi woman behind them. While the two men did most of the work, they weren't acting as her shields. She wasn't depending on Sasuke to protect her. She didn't let Naruto run in first. She was fighting _along side _her companions against a common enemy. It felt good.

She grinned at the sudden feeling of empowerment. Reaching into her pouch, she pulled out a handful of shuriken and let them fly one after another. They didn't land any mortal blows, even on the yellow eyed clones, but they did hit several of the furry things in the face drawing blood and blinding them. One especially furry dog-boy-thingy got hit right in the eye.

There was a crash from the next room. Turning her head, she saw a strange man wielding a sword with a basket hilt, wearing an eyepatch and a red and white striped shirt. He held a strange object in his other hand. It was made of a hollow pipe with a handle at the end. He held it up, aiming at Sakura, and the girl had a brief moment of panic. However, instead of letting it get to her, she used a Replacement technique, and whatever it was that strange weapon shot out, hit a large table instead. However, she didn't expect the level of destructive force the weapon dealt and the table shattered, the projectile punching right through, hitting the old man with greased hair in the back. Luckily for him, it apparently wasn't a mortal wound, as he growled and stood back up. He spun at the striped man, revealing a deformed brow and yellow eyes. Sakura slipped into the corner as she realized that her ally was the same strange kind of clone as those outside.

She watched as a couple other groups of fighters showed up, using taijutsu and weapons to beat back the attackers. They stepped into the range of the street light and Sakura gawked as she realized that they were humanoid turtles wielding much more familiar weapons, two sets of four. The taller ones were obviously the adults while the children were no less proficient with their weapons. The only thing that she could think of were Summons, so she assumed that there was another, more powerful ninja nearby that called them forth.

Those yellow-eyes seemed to realize that the Turtle Summons were more than they could afford to fight while continuing the assault on the house. The attackers broke off the assault and pulled back. The turtles showed up and asked something in the local language. The two men, obviously nervous around the four turtles, did relax after a moment's conversation. The woman with the nekomimi was more upset, yelling and pointing at the turtle summons in obvious disbelief. The two men were clearly not pleased with the woman, rolling their eyes and treating her as a nuisance.

The turtles and the men talked for a while before the turtle wearing the purple bands turned towards her.

"Are you okay?" he asked in Sakura's language.

"You can speak my language?" Sakura replied. "Oh thank goodness!"

"Don't worry, I speak Japanese," he said. "I'm Donatello."

"Sakura," she replied. She paused a moment, trying to figure out what "Japanese" meant, but shook it from her thoughts.

"Thank you for your help," she said. Being the best at Academics at the Academy, she was aware of the process one had to go through to acquire a summon, and since they were already present... "You wouldn't happen to have a scroll to sign, would you?"

"A scroll?" the purple clothed turtle asked.

Sakura slumped. "Oh, well, I guess it was too much to ask."

"Well, if you just explai-"

* * *

Sakura woke up with a jolt, springing into a sitting position from a dead sleep. Her breath was a heavy rasp, she wasn't wherever she was before. She glanced around. Sasuke was next to her, and Naruto on his other side. Kakashi was sitting on a branch nearby. Tazuna, the old drunken bridgebuilder, was passed out, slumped against a tree trunk.

"Yo," Kakashi-sensei said, landing next to her. "You alright?"

Sakura paused a moment as she looked up at him. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Nightmare?" he asked.

Sakura's mind started rolling. Was it a nightmare? She wasn't sure. It seemed so real. She was winded, exhausted as if she had been fighting for her life a moment ago.

"Uh, something like that," she said. "Do you know someone who has a turtle summoning contract?"

That brought up the older ninja short.

"Why are you asking about summoning? You're not nearly strong enough to sign one yet," the jonin cautioned.

"I just-" Sakura began, pausing as she tried to assemble what she had just experienced into words that wouldn't make her sound completely insane. "I just thought that I should be thinking about them."

'Wow,' she told her self. 'Way to sound _lame_.'

"Why don't you get back to sleep. You're shift comes just before dawn."

"Oh, uh, okay," she said, attempting to settle back into some form of sleep. Sleep didn't come. Although intellectually, she knew she had only slept about 4 hours, she should have been tired. Was it a result of that strange dream/nightmare/psychosis she experienced? Or was it something more? She rolled around on the ground, trying to get comfortable.

She closed her eyes.

There was something tickling her subconscious that was like a new sense. It was tingling, telling her something, but she didn't know what. Opening her eyes, she realized it was coming from Naruto.

Her shift came long after she was ready to be up and about. After rolling around for so long, she decided to do some stretching just to get the kinks out. It wasn't until half way through her routine that she realized the parts that normally made her sore weren't and as a whole, the Academy taijutsu style wasn't a challenge. It was yesterday and it should have been today.

She decided to let her companions sleep for a while longer than she normally would have, waiting until the sun was well in the sky. While she was waiting, she studied each of them closely. Sasuke had something about his eyes that disturbed her. Kakashi had it stronger and at half strength all at the same time. It didn't make sense, but that what this Spidy-Sense was telling her. What the hell was a Spidy-Sense and how had she come up with that term? There was something wiggy going on. Wait. Wiggy?

Naruto had something else all together. It was raw power, almost intimidating in its ferocity. At the same time, there seemed to be a second Naruto, powerful, but not as overbearing. Could someone have two chakra reserves? That's what it felt like at least. Sort of.

"Huh," Kakashi said, waking up and blinking at the sky. "We were supposed to have left hours ago."

"Sorry," Sakura said. "You guys looked tired, so I let you sleep."

"Let's not do that next time," Kakashi recommended.

"Yes, Sensei," she intoned before going over to wake up Sasuke and Naruto. Before she did, she turned back to Kakashi who was in the process of sealing his bedroll back into a scroll. "Sensei?"

"Yeah?"

"Can someone have two chakra reserves?"

Kakashi's eye widened. This was getting into dangerous territory.

"Why do you ask?"

"Um, well," Sakura said. "When I look at Naruto, I get the impression that there are two of him. Or there's him and another him inside of him. Naruto's big, bigger than you or Sasuke-kun, but the other Naruto is REALLY big and mean. Am I making any sense?"

"When did you start feeling this way?"

"When I woke up last night," she admitted. She turned away from her sensei to look at the boy in question. Naruto was mumbling something about Ramen and tapirs, but it wasn't clear to make out the whole thing. Behind her, Kakashi pulled his hands together and sent out a pulse of chakra intending to reveal any genjutsu. Sakura perked up, turning around to look at him curiously. "Did you just do something?"

"Huh, you say something?" Kakashi asked from behind his book. Sakura shrugged.

"Must have been my imagination."

As she gently woke Sasuke and not-so-gently woke Naruto (who was drooling on her shoes in his sleep), Kakashi kept an eye on the girl. Somehow she was sensing chakra, something she had not been able to do the day before. He had attempted to see if she had been replaced, but his chakra pulse had not revealed any Henge effect. Perhaps it was an activating bloodline, but suspicion was the basis of all ninjas' survival, and he wasn't about to rule out anything yet. Just to be on the safe side, he sent a letter back to Konoha via Pakkun warning the Hokage of the change.

The little dog ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, getting him back by midday. They had left late the day before, so they weren't really that far away from the village. Getting to the village gates, he handed the scroll off to ANBU who quickly brought it directly to the Old Man. Sarutobi puffed on his pipe as he rolled out the message, biting down on the pipe stem as he read the report. Rolling it back up, he motioned for an ANBU to attend him.

Cat arrived quickly.

"Go assemble a medic nin, Anko Mitarashi, Kurenai Yūhi and Iruka and bring them here," he instructed.

He awaited them, cleaning his pipe, tapping out the ashes. Iruka arrived first, then Anko, and then a medic nin he had seen before, but didn't know the name of.

"Hokage, what is the matter?" Iruka asked.

"There is an issue with Team 7," Sarutobi said. He held up a hand when Iruka started to protest. "And no, it isn't Naruto's fault. Actually, I wanted to ask you about Sakura Haruno."

The look on Iruka's face would have been priceless if the situation weren't so serious.

"You were her instructor for several years, did she ever display any talent for chakra sensing?" the Hokage asked.

"No, she was very precise in her chakra use and top of her year at academics, but no, she never said anything about sensing it before," Iruka replied. "But now she can? She just woke up and started sensing chakra?"

"I just received a note from Kakashi saying exactly that," the Hokage said holding up the scroll for them all to see.

"Why am I here?" Anko demanded. "I don't even know this brat, and I don't have much to contribute unless it involves snakes, torture or interrogation or best, a combination of the three. Unless you think the Haruno brat has been replaced."

"That is what I'm worried about, yes, although it would have to be a pretty poor replacement," Sarutobi replied. "Which is why I would like prepare a soft welcome for when she returns just in case and some in the field examination."

"I assume you would like me to go through the Haruno records, am I right?" Migaki, the medic-nin asked.

"Yes, and I would like her chakra system inspected by a Hyuga," Sarutobi stated. "However, should she be a plant, we would like to be as subtle as possible."

"Which is why I am here," Kurenai said. "Am I right?"

"Yes, I considered Team Guy, but that had potential to cause problems due to his rivalry with Kakashi. Not to mention that Guy has always had trouble being subtle," explained the Hokage, chuckling slightly towards the end. "As Hinata was a classmate of Sakura, I expect it will work out better in the long run.

"They are ready for a C-Rank mission and I have been meaning to try some exercises with other teams," the red eyed woman replied. "When do we leave?"

"Today," he said before turning to Anko. "You will go with them. You're among our best at T&I, and I would like you to observe the situation."

"Heh, that's quite a bloated C-Rank," the woman said with a smirk. "A bit overkill for just some bandits."

"I'll go through Sakura's records at the Academy and look up family history, Hokage-Sama," Iruka volunteered. "I don't know that there is much extraordinary about her except for her occasional bouts of extra strength, although she generally only used that when beating someone up, most often Naruto."

"Thank you, Iruka, that's precisely what I was going to ask," Sarutobi commented with a smile. "There are three very tempting targets on Team 7 between the Sharingan of both Kakashi and the Uchiha and Naruto's burden. While I am hoping for the best, I feel we should plan for the worst."

"I'll be off to collect my team then," Kurenai said. "I just let them out for clan training, so at least I know where they are."

"Very well, you're dismissed."

They stood up and walked out. Sarutobi summoned a smaller ape than his usual summon, Enma, and instructed the young creature to take a message informing Kakashi of his plans. It jumped through the trees, leaping from branch to branch faster than all but the most extraordinary genin or chunin. Eventually it reached the five travelers and jumped from the branches to Kakashi's shoulder like a monkey. It passed the scroll to the Jonin and quickly vanished in a puff of smoke.

"What's it say, sensei?" Sakura asked.

"Team 8 is going to join us for some joint training," Kakashi said. "Since we're still so close to Konoha, the Hokage felt it was still okay to send another team."

Sasuke sneered at the thought that he couldn't take care of the problem on his own; Naruto just thought it was cool to see some of their classmates again; and Sakura just seemed pleased that the pig wasn't going to be there...whoever the pig was. The silverhaired ninja didn't miss the change in Tazuna's stance. After years of watching body language with and without the Sharingan, the Copy Ninja understood that the statement had brought relief to the old drunk. That was something to watch out for, but it could stay on the back burner for now.

He glanced down at his genin. Outwardly there was little different. Sakura was pestering Sasuke for a date when they got back to Konoha. Sasuke wrinkled his nose and twitched his eyes in annoyance at the pestering. Naruto volunteered his services for a date and became disgruntled as Sakura predictably shot him down. To a normal view, this was normal activity, and it was on the parts of Sasuke and Naruto, who both had no change in body language or behavior. Sakura was different. She kept a little more distance between her and the boys. She kept glancing slightly at Naruto's midsection and at Sasuke's eyes, or more accurately, at the back of his eyeballs where the Sharingan originates. His contemplation of these changes was disturbed when Sakura tugged on his vest and nodded to a puddle up ahead.

"There's something wrong with that puddle," she said.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked, aware that it hadn't rained for days and the rest of the road was hard as rock from the baking sun.

"I don't know, it just doesn't feel right," she replied. By the look on her face, the girl was clearly confused, but there had been infiltration specialists that had been able to fool him before.

"Let's just see what happens, shall we?"

Sasuke glared at the girl, obviously annoyed by the disruption. Come to think of it, Sasuke was annoyed by a lot of things. Kakashi and company walked past the puddle, and the jonin noted that Sakura's eyes never left it. When the two ninja slipped out of the genjutsu, Sakura was already in motion. She pushed the old man down and threw a shuriken as she fell, protecting the man's body with her own. The chained claw flew over their heads and missed completely. Sakura's shuriken did not.

The thin blade flew straight and true a the first ninja's shoulder, cut through the armor and flesh, broke the bone inside and flew out the other side. It wasn't a killing blow, but the reaction was there. The force of the throw sent the larger ninja flying backwards into a spiral, sending a flash of blood into the sky. His partner gawked at the wounded ninja, giving Sasuke and Naruto time to beat him down.

Kakashi scratched his chin through his mask as he pondered the incident.

'I suppose I'll have to add super-strength to the list, as well,' he thought to himself.

Sakura's shuriken was imbedded up to its ring in a tree on the other side of the road.

Not knowing exactly how to react, Kakashi shrugged and gave his cute little ninjas a smile.

"Good work you three," Kakashi said. Sasuke grunted as if his exemplar actions were only obvious and expected. Naruto preened under the brief moment of praise. Sakura put her hands on her hips and glared up at her sensei.

"See! I told you there was something wrong with that puddle!" she berated angrily as if she were yelling at Naruto, and then covered her mouth with her hands when she realized what she'd just said to her superior. Kakashi, having dealt with similarly exuberant people before, primarily in the form of Guy, just shrugged.

"Huh, you say something?"

That seemed to diffuse the situation. The girl took a deep breath of relief and glanced up at him nervously with a little chuckle.

Ignoring her for the moment, Kakashi went over to take care of the two prisoners. They were out cold, so all he did was stop the bleeding and check them over for suicide drugs. When he was sure they were clean, he handed Sasuke and Naruto a few loops of rope.

"Tazuna, I think we need to have a little talk," the jonin said, causing the older man to shiver nervously. "Or I can have Sakura talk to you instead."

The old man's eyes glanced at the little girl who took out a man almost three times her size with one dinky little blade and decided that Kakashi was probably the better person to talk to. When he was done, he turned back to his three little troublemakers.

"Okay, we're going to wait here for Team 8 as it seems our boozy friend here lied about the full situation," the jonin explained. Tazuna had the good graces to look chagrined at the statement.

"We didn't have enough," the man replied. "If you knew what Gato had done to our country..."

"Why don't you tell us in detail while we wait," Kakashi suggested in a tone that stated it wasn't a suggestion.

Team 8 was excited. They were going on a C-rank mission. And while it might have been a team up with Team 7, it was still their first C-rank and would count for all of them. The only thing that worried her was the fact that the other jonin was joining them, suggesting something more was up with the situation. Hinata brushed the thoughts aside until they arrived at the camp just after dark. Bound underguard were two men, obviously ninja and bearing equally obvious wounds.

"Team 8 here," Kurenai said with a nod to her fellow jonin. Kakashi nodded, barely looking up from his book and motioned with his eyes to the woods. She nodded almost imperceptibly and turned to her team. "Why don't you go set up camp with Team 7?"

"Yeah, they probably don't even know how," Kiba said in his usual trashtalking fashion. Kurenai barely restrained rolling her eyes.

"Missing-nin? I thought this was supposed to be a C-rank?" Kurenai asked as soon as they were out of hearing range.

"Client lied," Kakashi replied simply. He explained the situation. "I'm confident that our two teams can continue if things were normal."

"But they're not with Sakura's changes," the red eyed woman finished for him.

"Exactly," he said flatly. "She also took down once of those chunin by herself, with a _shuriken_, at about twenty feet away, went right through his shoulder."

"She has displayed some extra strength in the past, especially when angry," Kurenai commented, remembering what Iruka had briefed her before they left. "Adrenalin?"

"Perhaps."

"I'll take first watch," the woman volunteered. "I'll keep an eye on her."

* * *

That night Sakura dreamed. She was fighting, always fighting. Her enemies had golden eyes, fangs and deformed faces like before. She lived lifetimes. Sometimes she fought the same enemies in different places, in different times. She didn't know how she knew this, but she did. She fought things with tentacles and bronze scales. She fought beasts that looked like they were parts of several creatures merged together. She fought a blond man with the golden eyes and watched him steal her coat. She fought him again with flames all around her. She fought and she fought and she fought.

Sakura died. She died in almost every way possible. By fangs, by claws, by swords, by fist, by guns (whatever they were) and by nearly any other weapon ever made. But fangs were the most common. She felt the searing pain and helplessness of death as the fanged creatures sucked her blood out of her body over and over again.

But she killed more than she died. She was everywhere killing with a sharp stick. The creatures turned to dust. She lurked in the land of the dead, killing them a second time. Some she killed and then was killed by. Sometimes she was killed by and then she killed them.

It was a constant cycle of memories and practice, over and over. She learned the bow from an old man who rode a horse. She learned the sword from a man wearing tweed and glasses in a library. She learned to catch from a man in a warehouse. She learned kung-fu and forms of taijutsu she had never heard of before. She learned throws and blocks. She learned kicked and strikes.

At some point during the night, Sakura realized that she wasn't alone. As she lived these dreams, she also watched them. Normally it was just Sakura and her inner-self inside her head, but two others had joined: A blonde woman wearing an outfit quite similar to Sakura's and a woman with dark skin, face paint and clothed only in animal skins. The blonde woman turned towards the pink haired girl and stared almost mechanically at her.

"This is your life now," the blonde said.

"It is your gift," said the savage looking woman.

"What is?" Sakura asked.

"That," said the blonde woman pointing to where Sakura was living lives and dieing deaths.

"Why? Why me?"

"Fate, accident, bad luck," the blonde said. "Destiny sucks."

"I don't understand what is happening," Sakura pleaded.

"It was like that for me too," the blonde replied, looking at a fight in a school gym. The scene shifted to a fight in a cave and Sakura learned how it felt to drown after having your blood partially drained. Then she felt the cracking of ribs as her chest was compressed and air was forced into her lungs by a black haired man. Another one looked on, holding back.

"Death sucks too," the blonde woman commented with a particularly perturbed look. "I don't recommend it."

"I'll take your advice and try to avoid it," Inner Sakura snarked, speaking up for the first time.

"Was I _you_for a night?" Sakura asked, recognizing some of the town from her "dream" the previous night.

"Ding-ding-ding! We have a winner!" Inner Sakura said from the peanut gallery.

"Yes, or rather, _I _was _you_," the blonde said. "A spell changed us a little. I think we changed you, too."

"Maybe, I can sense Chakra now," Sakura replied.

"That would be our spidy sense."

"Spidy sense?"

The blonde gave her a firm nod. "Spidy sense. Sounds like you're better at it than me," the blonde replied. "I could just sense vamps and demons out of a crowd."

"Vamps? I know demons, but they're pretty rare aren't they?"

"Maybe where you are; I live on a hellmouth," the blonde commented. "It's like a never ending block party for badness."

"What am I supposed to do? Am I still me?"

"You're still you, you've just got a... little extra something that helps you a long," The blonde said as she watched a blond vampire shoot some guns in a club. "There's this whole talk that goes along with it, but I'm not Watchy enough to really give it. You're stronger, you're faster-"

"One dies, another is called," interrupted the First Slayer. The blonde gave her a dark look before she continued on.

"And you're called the Slayer, there's this whole line thing going way back to like before humans kicked the big demons off the planet," the blonde continued. "Oh, and you heal way faster than before too. And you get all these funky dreams that tell you 'bout stuff."

"You're seeming more alive and less-"

"-A dream? I don't think I am a dream, at least not any more," the woman said. "A memory maybe? That's the kinda thing I usually just pass onto my Watcher. I'm more of a see demon, kill demon kinda girl."

The two Jonin watched as Sakura moved and moved in her sleep. When the sun was finally up, they took advantage of the time in between their awakening and their students' to go over the other half of the mission.

"She's been in dream-sleep the entire night," Kurenai said. "That shouldn't be possible."

"Is she under a genjutsu? An illusion of some kind?" Kakashi pondered, but Kurenai shook her head.

"I can't think of any illusion that could do this, and still let her function like she was yesterday," the red eyed woman replied. "She's exhibiting physical traits and Hinata says her chakra signature is identical to Sakura's from the Academy."

"How'd you get her to inspect her without letting on?"

"I told the whole team to use their abilities to detect allies and compare to changes in the past,"

"You do have an infiltration group," Kakashi nodded with appreciation.

"Kiba says nothing has changed in her scent, and Akamaru agrees," Kurenai continued with a nod. "Shino's abilities don't help so much in this form, but he has tagged all team members. I told them to act as if this was infiltration into a possibly hostile group."

"And didn't tell them that this could be exactly that," Kakashi nodded. "I can understand your reasoning, especially if we're wrong. We wouldn't want to spread mistrust among them that could linger."

"Precisely, although I am concerned about _you-know_with Naruto," Kurenai said.

"He isn't a danger," Kakashi stated flatly.

"I'm not worried about that, I'm worried about if my team finds out at a bad time," Kurenai replied. "I'm not sure how they'll respond. I think Hinata might take it the worst."

"Why?"

"She happens to have a crush on Naruto," the woman replied with a small smile.

"Oh," Kakashi replied, honestly surprised. "Shouldn't she already know, considering her bloodline?"

Kurenai shook her head. "She can tell he's got a seal, but other than that, she doesn't suspect."

He glanced at their charges, prisoners and client and nodded. "Looks like they're waking up."

"Almost time for me to go," the blonde said with a grin.

"Go where? Back to-to wherever that place was?" Sakura asked.

"Pretty much," the blonde nodded. "Thanks for keeping my body alive that night. It could have gone badly."

"Uh, no problem, it-well, it felt good to be relied on as me and not treated like a third wheel," Sakura admitted, as much to herself as to the blonde. "I needed that. I needed to fight beside someone rather than rely on someone else's strength."

"Glad to give the chance," the Blonde replied. "Oh, and word of advice? When the silver cyclops screams, catch. Not too sure what that's supposed to mean, but I was told to pass it along."

"Uh, thanks," Sakura replied with more than a little confusion marring her face.

"Time to wake up!"

* * *

Sakura sat up instantly, feeling completely refreshed, even if she somehow knew she didn't sleep normally. She glanced around and saw the two Jonin tossing sticks on the still burning fire from the night before. Her arm, sore from the throw the day before, was loose and relaxed without the slightest bit of tenderness or pain. She started stretching, pulling her arms and reaching out with her legs.

"Good night?" Kakashi asked. Sakura just shrugged.

"Strange dream. I was fighting and fighting and it was like a nightmare, but not scary for some reason. I died a few times in the dream, but I got better and kept going," Sakura said, bending down to touch her forehead to her ankle. "Wow! I never knew I could do that!"

"Do what?"

"I've never been this flexible before," she said with clear amazement in her voice. "I can tickle my chin with my toes!"

"I'm going to classify that as a little creepy," Kakashi said from behind his little book. "Do you have any idea why these changes are happening? Any bloodlines in your family?"

"Yeah," Sakura said with a bit of a frown, "but all it does is give me pink hair."

"So, no idea?"

"I did have a weird dream the night before last, I was in a strange place fighting these weird dust clones," Sakura replied with a bit of a scowl.

"Dust clones?"

"They were like Naruto's clones, but instead of turning into smoke, they turned into dust," Sakura replied. "Faster and stronger than normal, and had funny eyes and fangs. You had to either cut off the head or stab their heart and then they went poof-dust."

"They turned into a cloud of dust?"

"Well, they froze for a second and then exploded into dust," Sakura elaborated. "And there were some turtle summons with strange names. Donateruo, wait, that's not right. Donatello. He carried a bow staff and wore a mask over his eyes. It was purple. He was the only one who could speak my language."

"And this was a dream?"

"Well, yeah, but except not a dream," Sakura replied. "It was like it really happened and I was stuck there, and we fought, and defended this house. There was another kunoichi who had a jutsu that let her walk through walls and avoid blows. And a girl in a pink cat costume who was pretty useless. But when I woke up, I got this strange chakra sense thingy."

"So you said."

"Did you know that Naruto's bigger than you? He's actually the biggest here," Sakura replied. "If his chakra's so big, why does he suck?"

"He doesn't have control, but I don't want to talk about him," Kakashi replied as he led her across the road to a clear patch. "I want you to throw a few kunai at that tree. Do it like you did yesterday."

She shrugged, plucked a few from the pouch at her side and let them fly. They struck the tree deeply, but without the force from the day before.

"Yesterday you were stronger," Kakashi pondered. While she was clearly better than she was in the Academy or even at the start of his care, it wasn't the armor piercing throw he had seen during the fight. He glanced over to where Kurenai was watching. Looking to all the world like she was tending the fire, she nodded slightly. Turning back to his student, he pointed towards the target. "Try again."

Sakura pulled a shuriken out of her pocket and threw it with her strength and agility. It flew in an arch, and at first Kakashi thought she was going to miss, but the shuriken curved in its flight and sunk dead into the target, vanishing into the trunk. Kakashi motioned for her to wait and went around to the other side where the shuriken was partially sticking out of the tree.

"That's more like it," Kakashi commented.

"Wow, I didn't know I could do that," Sakura admitted in amazement as she ran a finger over the new scar in the tree. She grabbed the handles of her kunai and pulled them out, tossing them without looking into the open pouch tied to her leg. The masked jonin looked on with interest as she pulled them out. With the kunai buried up to their hilts, even he would have had a hard time extracting them.

"That's good, why don't you go wake up the others?" Kakashi suggested.

======================================================================  
The day progressed rather mundanely as they made the final leg of their journey to Wave Country. The mist filled boat ride was rather disturbing, especially as half the team had to wait for the rest to arrive on the second trip. The mist was thick enough to make it almost seem like night, with shadows pressing in on the ninja. The oppressive shadow of the gigantic unfinished bridge didn't help the feeling either. Sakura, Hinata, Naruto and Kurenai were on the first trip across and had to wait in the dark shadow the entire time. By the time the others arrived, they were ready to get going.

Eventually they made it up to an area where the sun shown down on them once more. It was odd, but Naruto and Sakura reacted at the same time, throwing kunai in the same place.

"Ha! Team 7 sucks if they can't tell the difference between an enemy ninja and a bunny," Kiba Inuzuka cackled, eliciting glares from the embarrassed Naruto and Sakura.

"DOWN!" Kakashi yelled and the world seemed to slide into slow motion. Sakura heard the sound of something spinning. She watched as Kiba jumped onto Tazuna, knocking the old man over. She spun in place and saw something spinning towards her like a flying buzzsaw. Acting before her mind caught up with her, Sakura slapped her palms together, catching a gigantic sword between them that was just barely away from her nose. She was so afraid of what she just did that she screamed like a little boy who just got kicked in the jimmies. A moment later, Sakura sobbed in sudden fear and relief as the world returned and an unnatural mist sprang up around them.

"Zabuza Momochi, the Demon Swordsman of the Bloody Mist," Kakashi stated as the owner of the sword appeared. He cackled menacingly.

"Lucky kid, catching my sword that way," the man commented from behind the pink haired girl. Sakura spun around to see the man towering over her. "I'll take my blade back, brat."

Springing into action, she swung the sword around, slicing through the man, only to see him explode into water. Barely before the liquid could hit the ground, it was summoned up again to increase the mist to fog so thick pea-soup came to mind. Why exactly Sakura was thinking of pea-soup didn't make much sense, seeing as she had never heard of it before, but it seemed like the right descriptor for this level of fog.

Sakura heard the command to protect Tazuna, and absently noted that the others were attempting to stand. Sasuke's hand brought a kunai to his own neck, breaking off only when Kakashi yelled a warning. There were ten Zabuzas, or nine and one. Nine of them were subdued, weak, but Sakura could pick them out. She attacked, leaping, spinning, the sword in one hand and a kunai in the other. The water clones fell one by one as the Jonin double-teamed the missing-nin. Sakura sensed another that wasn't supposed to be present and appeared suddenly in front of the hiding ninja. Sasuke and Naruto fought along side her, slashing, piercing and attacking the clones as Team 8 protected Tazuna. They had three surrounding them, but one promptly fell to Hinata's Gentle Fist and another had the animating chakra absorbed by Shino's bugs. Kiba and Akamaru double-teamed the last one, drilling the water clone with their special attacks.

His mask was blank save for the symbol for the Mist and a few other markings, like ANBU, and Sakura reacted without thought, the memories of centuries of fighting still fresh in her mind from the night before. The sword swung and stopped a millimeter from the ninja's neck. Working on instinct, she spun the sword 90 degrees and slammed the flat of the blade into the ninja's head, knocking him flat. Senbon fell from the ninja's hands as he slumped to the ground.

Zabuza, lacking his favorite weapon and unable to retrieve it without letting his opponents have a free shot each, glared as he saw the pink haired girl drag Haku out of the bushes by the hair. Now he was down both his favorite weapons and both to the same little girl, damnit! She was wet from the water clones, but otherwise there wasn't a mark on her. The two boys teamed up and worked on removing the other water clones from the equation. Soon, though, Zabuza was alone and outnumbered. Seeing his chance, Zabuza threw one shuriken at the target, the act giving him a chance to escape.

Kakashi, seeing the ninja break off and flee, sent his own shuriken at the fleeing missing-nin, catching him in the shoulder.

Shino caught Zabuza's distraction right in front of Tazuna's face.

The drunkard fell to his knees in fright.

Students and Jonin alike stared at Sakura who stood their beaming with one of the most infamous swords in the ninja world on her shoulder.

"Can I keep it? It matches my shoes," Sakura quipped, giving the sword a toss up in the air, letting it spin twice, and catching it with one hand. They stared at her for a moment before Kiba got angry.

"Kurenai-sensei! Why aren't you teaching us stuff like that?"

* * *

When they arrived at Tazuna's house, a familiar face was waiting for them.

"Yo!" Anko said with a wave as she pulled a dango off the stick with her teeth. Taking in Kakashi and Kurenai's exhausted appearance she scowled. "Why didn't you tell me there was going to be a fight?"

Kakashi looked at Kurenai and Kurenai looked back at her with the same tired, silent expression. As one they nodded over their shoulder at Sakura who was giving the gigantic sword a few practice swings.

"Where'd pinkie get the cleaver?" Anko asked with mild interest.

"Zabuza Momochi," Kurenai replied. "Which is also where we got the prisoner."

"Cool, where's the head?"

"He got away," Kakashi replied tiredly.

"Che! That's what happens when it's amateur night," Anko replied haughtily.

Three eyes glared back at her, but the other two Jonin didn't say anything for a while.

"...Fuck you, Anko," Kakashi said before walking inside.

"Ditto," said Kurenai as she went to do the same.

* * *

Sakura, meanwhile, was experimenting with the gigantic sword in an attempt at cutting wood. It was rather easy this way, just a quick swipe and the wood split.

"Wow! I've never been this strong before!" the pink haired girl exclaimed as she cut a furrow down the pathway with the blade. "Hmm...maybe I should treat this a little better."

* * *

On the other side of the island, Zabuza had the sudden urge to burst into tears.

* * *

_Where am I going with this? Well, this is pretty much it. As I've said recently, I've been reading Naruto at the behest of some friends, and the title of this chapter was my reaction to Sakura. It annoyed me that she took so damn long to grow even a vestigal spine. So here it is, Sakura as a Slayer and in possession of a spine._

_It's not very likely that I'll do much more with this, considering I'm not a big fan of "let's remake the series" fics (although there are some good ones out there). If it was continued, I thought it would be a good change to have it be Sakura/Haku, just to mix things up. I like Sasuke as a Chaotic Neutral turned Chaotic Evil/Neutral Evil character because he has some good character development (even if it's all about him turning evil), but I dislike him as a possible romantic match. Naruto, on the other hand, needs to grow up a little even if I think he's a fun character, as he is VERY young for his age._

_As for Sakura's character evolution, I was going to go with the idea that she had some sort of Slayer muscle memory, where she is able to use pretty much any weapon without practice. She would learn martial arts with ease, almost like a physical Sharingan, absorbing fighting techniques with an almost impossible ease. The draw back to her Slayer powers would be in her Chakra use. Since chakra reserves are made up of natural stamina according to the manga, I was going to go with the idea that this conflicted with her Slayer powers, as that is unnatural stamina and unable to be converted to Chakra. So she would be a physical powerhouse with very precise chakra control and would have a very hard time increasing her chakra reserves. I didn't want her to be a Mary Sue type, but I really thought she needed a power-up in both physical abilities and her spirit._

_I know she grows a spine in part 2, but that was way too late for me._

_Plot wise, I have no clue where this was going to go. I just wrote this much to get it out of my head._

* * *

_I don't own Buffy, Sakura, or Naruto, nor any other character, series, or popculture reference._


	6. A Change in Plans

"Foggy, do you have the file on that-" Mathew Murdock cut himself off as he realized another person was in the room. He could hear his heartbeat, and recognized it instantly as that of one of Daredevil's occasional allies. However, Matt Murdock, Attorney at Law, had never met Director Fury.

"Mr. Murdock," Fury said in an all too familiar tone. "I was wondering if there was something you could look at."

"Perhaps," he replied. "And you are? I'm sorry, but I don't recognize your voice."

'Bullshit,' Fury said in a low tone; even the enhanced senses of Daredevil were barely able to pick it up. "Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD."

Matt could hear him wave a thick object with papers through the air. He was careful not to react. "I'm afraid that I'm a bit busy at the moment, but Mr. Nelson, my partner, might have time."

"Fourteen years old," Fury said, reading from the folder. "Pretty Irish girl from south Boston; had her mentor ripped to shreds right in front of her; fled, ended up in a nasty little 'burb by the name of Sunnydale, California with a bunch of sorta friends. Accidentally killed someone when she thought she was protecting herself. Went a little nuts. Got used by an expert manipulator who made the Kingpin look like a simple doughnut aficionado who tried to scam the waitress for a second jelly filled. Got put in a coma, woke up 8 months later and tried to get someone to kill her because she was 'bad.' Friend managed to get her calmed down and turned herself in. Been in prison for nearly two years."

"Charming story, but I'm practicing in Hell's Kitchen, not California," Murdock said. He couldn't deny that the story moved him. It was blatantly apparent that Fury was trying to use his history with Elektra as emotional blackmail. "I'm also not into pro bono work that requires that kind of commute."

"You'll be paid your usual rate," Fury said. "Only thing is, she can't know we're paying the bills."

"Why is that?"

"She has trust issues with daddy figures."

_That_ Murdock could believe. "So you want me to pretend that I'm a public defender?"

"If you wish. Just read the case files," Fury said, tossing the Braille translated folder on his desk. Out of curiosity, the blind lawyer ran his fingers over the text.

"Where did you get all this?"

"You and I both know the answer to that question," Fury said before walking out the door.

* * *

"Lehane!"

Faith looked up from her pacing the exercise yard to where the guard was standing on the balcony.

"Visitor," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. Faith knew this wasn't the normal visiting hours, so it couldn't be Angel, which meant it was either an ADA making her life worse, or a public defender trying to bumble his or her way into making a name for himself by getting her off. She hadn't found one yet that could do that in either meaning of the phrase even in her wildest dreams.

She trotted right up to the door, where the guards put her cuffs on before escorting her into the interview rooms. Yep, lawyer. She was sat down at the overly long and wide steel table and told the rules she could probably recite by heart. Do not touch the visitor. Do not leave her side of the room. Do not make threatening actions. There will be a guard outside at all times. Do I look like I'm joking? Yeah, Faith knew the routine in all its variations. She didn't expect the blind man to walk in. A blind lawyer? Well that was certainly new.

"Hello Miss Lehane," he said as he walked into the room, his cane tapping in front of him. His hand reached out and felt for his chair before sitting, which he did slowly, with seemingly practiced patience. "I am attorney Matt Murdock. I'll be your lawyer from this point forward."

"Whatever happened to Molly?"

"Molly?"

"Yeah, the last law student who thought I was her jump to stardom," Faith said bluntly.

"I am afraid that I don't know much more than what was in your case files," the red haired man replied. He opened a folder and started running his fingers across the dot filled pages. "You are nearly 18, am I right?"

"Uh, yeah," she said. "Look. I-I'm not some case of wrong identity, a victim of police brutality or a mistake. I'm here because I deserve to be."

"Faith, you committed crimes when you were barely fifteen; there was practically no evidence submitted; you were barely present when your lawyer met with the ADA of your case; you weren't even tried in the county where you allegedly committed those crimes; and nearly all of your public defenders became very junior partners in the same law firm. With the exception of Molly; I don't even know her last name."

"So what does that mean?"

"I'm not sure at this point," he admitted. "I wanted to meet you, face to face, so to speak and get a feel for you."

"So what? You're gonna get all touchy feely, an' all that?" the girl asked. "Wait, whadaya mean they all joined up with the same firm?"

"Three of your four public defenders went on to successful careers with Wolfram & Hart," Murdock said. Even he couldn't keep the tinge of disgust from creeping into his voice. His client was silent and unnaturally still. "You know that name."

"Yeah," Faith said quietly. "They wanted me to kill for them. They tried to kill some friends and some not-so-friends of mine."

"What?" The surprise was genuine. Murdock never expected to hear that, although he had suspected that someone affiliated with that firm engaged in similar activities.

"Nasty bunch," Faith said as if it explained everything.

"If that is true," he held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. "If that is true, and I'll be blunt about this, why are you still alive?"

"I'm worth more to them alive and in jail," Faith said. She was avoiding the question, but it wasn't quite a lie. He could tell by the race of her heartbeat. He also heard the slight creak of metal bending. It must be a weak point in the chair.

"Is that all you're going to say about it?"

She was silent for a moment, as if she was considering telling him the truth.

"Yeah," she said. "That's all I'm gonna say about that."

* * *

"You have got to be insane," the LA ADA said.

"No, I am perfectly sincere and sane," Murdock said, leaning back in his chair. "Parole for Lehane instead of incarceration. We both know the trial was a sham. We both know what happened to those who 'represented' her."

"What do you get out of this?" the ADA asked.

"I was hired to review her case by a certain party," the New York Lawyer said without elaborating. "I have done so and found a vast number of inaccuracies. The police work itself is somewhere between gross injustice and willful negligence. If I wanted to, I could easily have it thrown out as a miscarriage of justice. "

"But you're not," the ADA finished for him. "Why?"

"Because my client is very upset for what happened. She doesn't think she deserves to be outside," Murdock replied. He normally wouldn't even mention such a thing to the District Attorney's office, but this was a special case. "However, certain parties feel she would be better serving her time in a different setting. Due to particulars in her case."

"And what particulars would that be?"

"I've been told they are classified and that I don't need to know," was the quick reply. Murdock passed a card across the table. "Call this number. They might be able to tell you something."

She did as he asked. A few minutes later she returned. "Okay, you've got a deal, but she has to toe the line. If she runs, all bets are off."

"Thank you Miss Walters," Murdock said with a grin. Just as he was about to leave, he turned around. "Oh, and just a favor, Jennifer, put in a stipulation that she needs to get a high school education."

"Why?"

"Because she needs it. She doesn't know it, but she does."

* * *

"Come on Lehane," a guard said at the door to her cell. Faith and her roommate looked up in surprise. It wasn't even time for breakfast. "You're being transferred."

"Where? Whada I do?" she asked.

"You're not going into solitary, you're going away," the guard answered. Faith stood up and walked up, held out her hands for the cuffs and followed along, one guard behind her and another in front of her. They took her to a room she'd never seen before. One guard unlocked her cuffs and handed her a box. "Get changed."

Opening the box, she found a green thing that looked like a pair of coveralls. She stripped, put on the new outfit and opened up the next package in the box. Her possessions were kept in a bag. It included her clothes, her jewelry and a few other personal items. She suddenly realized she didn't have much. She didn't really have any _things_ that she missed. She was tempted for a second to toss the whole bag in the trash, but kept herself from it at the last minute. When she was done, she knocked on the door to let them know.

Instead of the guard she expected, she watched as a tall black man with an eyepatch and a leather jacket walked in. "Have a seat."

"What the last lawyer quit too and now I've got you?"

"I'm not a lawyer, Miss Lehane," the man said. "I'm your parole officer."

"I made parole?" Faith said with surprise. "Don't ya need one a them hearin's for sumptin like that?"

"Normally yes, but a new law enacted by congress allows me to get around that little fact," the man said.

"I don't understand. I don't want to be out."

"I think you'll understand soon enough," the man said, removing another folder from his coat. He pushed a few papers towards her. "I'll need you to read and sign these."

She scanned them, not completely understanding what they meant. "Uh, what the fuck are these?"

"Special papers that allow me to inform you of certain opportunities I've put together so you can do more than just rot in your cell," the man said. She opened her mouth, but the man cut her off. "Now, listen. You might want to do your time, but really, you aren't helping anyone. People are still getting killed out there. Things still go bump in the night. The only thing you're doing is making yourself feel good."

Faith felt her face flush with a good amount of barely constrained rage and guilt. He slammed a pen right in front of her. "Sign."

She signed her name on the marked lines, not even glancing away from his gaze.

"About time kid," he said. "I am Nick Fury, Director of the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate. That's better known as SHIELD."

"Never heard of you."

"I would be surprised if you had. I'm not a particularly public figure," he said with a grin. "Now, as I was saying, Congress just passed an article included in a national security bill. It mandates that certain individuals, certain individuals with special abilities be directed into my hands instead of that of prison if they wish to make up for their mistakes."

"Mistakes? I killed two people!" Faith said, standing up.

"Didn't I tell you to sit down?" Fury asked stonefaced as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

Slowly, not taking her eyes off his, Faith lowered herself back into the chair.

"Now, if I may continue?" Fury asked, a little annoyance slipping into his voice. "You aren't helping anybody in here. You aren't doing anybody any good. Now I'm gonna give you a chance to change that. I am reaching out to you. How many vamps you find in there?"

Faith took a long moment to answer. "…One... It was here a long time, maybe since it was built."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Fury said. "And how many dead people turned up here in prison? I'll answer that. None from vamp bites. Shivs, yeah, but vamps, no."

"Wait, you know about this?" Faith asked.

"I can inform you that the US Government has had operations involving the supernatural since 1941," Fury informed her. He flipped a few pages to show her a few shots of the Initiative aftermath. "Unfortunately they got out of control last year. A few acquaintances of yours took care of the problem in a little burb up the coast."

Faith flicked her eyes from the photos of the devastation up to match his. He watched as she flinched as she flipped through the photos and saw one of a blonde fighting a cyborg. "Yeah, her and her merry band."

"So what's that got to do with me? You want me to help you clean up?"

"No, actually, the official, classified stance on the subject is to leave it to the professionals, train new teams until they are professionals and let them take things from there," Fury replied. "POTUS has learned that those running the Initiative were something akin to toddlers running with an armed nuke they thought was a wiffle ball. He does not want to see that ever again." He closed that section and moved to another. "No, Faith, we have a very different enemy in mind, but just as dangerous."

* * *

The prison guard was a portly man of early middle age who had been doing this kind of thing for about twenty years. He considered it to be his greatest mistake, right ahead of not graduating from high school and marrying his wife. And there he was, stuck in front of a mutie terrorist's cell, checking everything for metal. They even made him check the staples in magazines. Nothing was ever made out of anything metallic or magnetic. Everything and everyone was scanned. It was a natural precaution when it came to imprisoning Magneto, the Master of Magnetism.

Such was the routine, that the guard didn't like it when things became surprising. And there weren't supposed to be any surprises on the job. It was all supposed to be like clockwork. The mutie's bald cripple buddy came on Thursdays. Magazines went in on Monday and were pulled on Saturday. The mutie went on walks on the plastic corridor on Fridays, Sundays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays.

He didn't like it when a strange guy disrupted his schedule. Black leather coat, black skin, nearly shaved bald head, and an eye patch. The strange guy held out a folder.

"Reading material," the man said with a grin before tossing it on the midday lunch tray. When the guard moved to open it up, the man cut him off with a sharp word. "Tut! What part of Top Secret don't you understand kid?"

The guard really didn't like being called kid, even when he was one. "Do NOT open that folder, or I will have your goddamn job faster than you can say jelly filled. Do you understand me?"

The guard grunted to convey his level of understanding.

"Good," the man said. As he walked away he waved a hand. "I'll know."

The guard grumbled and walked right into the prisoner's cell, tray of food and folder right in front of him. "Food."

"Yes, I am well aware of the existence of edible sustenance," the older gentleman said firmly, his nose entrenched in the latest genetics journal. Magneto, once called Max Eisenhardt, later Erik Lenhsherr, glanced up only to see the folder. "Interesting. And it isn't even Monday yet."

"What is it?"

"Seeing as how I have yet to open the item in question, I wonder how I would know that?" Magneto commented. "Though from external observation, it does suggest its existence to be that of a manila folder. Perhaps even a decent one for a change."

"Fuckin' Mutie," the guard growled. He wanted to punch the old guy, but he knew it would only bite him in the ass later on. The old German man just looked at him with over concern.

"How eloquent," Magneto said with sarcasm so thick you could almost touch it. "It would seem my previous belief that your simian continence belays an ancestry rich in the Deoxyribonucleic acid of _Pongo abelii_ is correct."

"What?"

"Exactly."

And with that the mutant hating guard went back out and sat down outside Magneto's cell once more. The guard really wished the day would end.

* * *

Two weeks later,

The man who had once been known as Max Eisenhardt watched in silence as a familiar face strode down the elevated plastic corridor into his cell. He smiled slightly, touching the tips of his fingers together in a steeple shape.

"Now this is a surprise," he said.

"Is it really?" Fury asked as he sat down across from the mutant. "How many people would put something like this together? And what would I gain by doing so?"

"I could name five off the top of my head, each for different purposes," Magneto replied. "Given an hour, I could perhaps find a dozen."

"So you've thought about it?"

"And what makes you believe that?"

"How about the fact that you haven't used the shrapnel in my shoulder as a means of escape?"

Magneto raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the director of SHIELD.

"I know it's there. You know it's there. I know you know it's there, so why don't we just get back to business?" Fury asked, setting a second folder down on the table next to the well read, dog-eared folder he had delivered a fortnight earlier.

"Why me?"

"Simple," Fury said. "Because you have the motivation to do it right. Let's face it, we won this round. You're here, and doing little to support your cause."

"Not true, I am something of a living martyr, a political prisoner," Eisenhardt replied. "I am a symbol."

"Not a very good one," Fury replied bluntly. He flipped open the folder in front of him. It showed the device from the Statue of Liberty. "Very creative. You're just as smart as they all said you were."

"True, now if they could all just admit that I am right and everything will work out perfectly," Magneto said with just a slight tinge of a sardonic tone.

"With your history, you should know the world doesn't work that way," Fury replied darkly. He tapped the photo again. "Not designed to kill. You were trying to turn the tables, use human weakness against itself. You knew that if those politicians mutated, they'd protect their own asses. They would suddenly find themselves on your side. Genius. Nasty, but genius."

"Yes," the prisoner said. "Why go for the kill when a wound hurts so much more?"

"I also know that this is the only world you've got," Fury continued. "You're considering it. In fact, I bet you've already made your decision."

"These…Goa'uld, what is their motivation?"

"Pure, supreme arrogance," Fury replied. He shrugged when his verbal opponent raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Their species sees all others as hosts, no different than a rich guy driving a car. The fact that their species is parasitic only makes things worse."

"Biologically speaking they are symbiotic," Lenhshurr said, tapping the folder in front of him.

"But socially, the host gets nothing out of it," Fury countered, "used as a means of locomotion, nothing more. And that's what has us worried."

"You are concerned about these aliens covertly invading earth," Magneto said flatly.

"Our profilers say there are a few that are as savvy enough to do something like that, but most are too arrogant and always go for the direct assault," Fury shot back, in an equally flat tone. "Actually we're more concerned about what happens if they get mutants as hosts. As far as we can tell, either through observation and anecdotal evidence, the snake knows everything the host knows. I figure that includes instant control over the host's powers."

"Then why recruit me? Are you not more worried that one such as I could be taken as a host?"

"We feel that you are worth the risk," Fury said. "You might also be able to sense the snakes."

"Ah yes, the…naqueda? I believe you call it?"

"Yes, a naturally occurring mineral from other worlds," Fury explained, "reacts well to magnetic fields. If properly trained, you could be able to sense the snakes, and former hosts."

"Wonderful, you desire my help simply as a glorified bloodhound," Lensherr replied with disgust. "I would be more insulted if it was not so predictably human."

Fury smirked slightly before passing over another subfolder from the one he had recently deposited on the table. Magneto opened it up and scanned the pages. When he was done he looked up, just a little confused.

"Why do you have a psychological profile of a fourteen year old girl?"

"She's eighteen in three weeks," Fury said, noting the birth date. "We didn't make this. Her former…_employer_ did. She's been in Jail for nearly two years."

Magneto flipped to the second page. "You're building a team. What are we? The Criminal Avengers?"

"I was thinking SG8."

Magneto looked at Fury with a long searching expression. The old military man could see the metaphorical gears turning in the Auschwitz victim turned mutant terrorist's mind. He stared back, just as silent and just as unblinking.

Then, after what seemed like an hour, a wrenching, brutal pain erupted from his shoulder as the shrapnel seemed to liquefy and seep out his pores. He involuntarily reached for his side arm and for the wound in the same instant, seeming more like a masochistic contortionist than the director of one of the most secret organizations in the US department of Homeland Security.

Magneto dropped his hand, letting the metal resolidify in midair and fall to the table with a clank.

"I do believe we have a deal," Max Eisenhardt said. "You might wish to have that inspected."

* * *

Colorado Springs

"You want me to what?" Feretti asked.

General Hammond leaned back in his chair. "You are going to be leading a special team made up of special individuals with talents that should assist us in our fight against the Goa'uld."

The newly minted Lt. Colonel waved a batch of folders. "But look at this, I get one marine; a kid who looks like she should be just getting back from high school; and a world-renowned criminal who's older than the hills! How am I supposed to work with this?"

"Faith Lehane is a special individual," the third man in the meeting said. "She's got talent for weaponry and tactics, but she does need to let loose from time to time."

"Why does that make her useful?"

"She's also strong enough to bend steel with her bare hands," Fury replied. "That's not the least of her talents."

"Mutant?" Feretti asked. Fury grinned and shook his head as he chomped down on a cigar.

"No, the kid's something special," Fury replied. "The old man is a bit different. He's as brilliant as Jackson and Carter put together. He's got more advanced degrees than both of them put together. Add in his ability to control magnetic fields..."

"And the Marine?"

"I think you'll find Frank Castle capable of anything you care to test him for," Hammond replied. "His family is already here and he'll report to the base tomorrow."

"I thought his name was Francis Castiglione?" Feretti asked.

"He's changed it," Fury replied simply.

"So how is this supposed to work? I can't just send them into the field, and what assurances do I have that Magneto isn't going to just take over the base?" Hammond asked.

"While it isn't well known, Eisenhardt is a Holocaust survivor," Fury replied to the great surprise of his fellows. "The whole reason he's so hard against flatline humans is that he is worried we'll do the same thing to Mutants that Hitler did to the Jews. He won't admit it, but the idea of Earth being overrun by snakes scares him more than what humans are doing. Don't expect him to be a good little soldier, but he'll do his job."

* * *

"Ah, Charles, how good of you to visit, although you nearly missed me," Magneto said to his long time friend and enemy. Charles Xavier rolled forward on the clear plastic walkway, more than a little confused by his old friend's words.

"I was not aware that you were being transferred," Xavier stated as the door opened for him.

"I have been given quite an opportunity, quite beyond what I had before, something much more important," the old man said as he slipped his reading material into a folder. He slid it to the far end of the table so while it was still in reach, it wasn't the center of attention.

"Oh? So you've been given a reprieve?" Xavier asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's call it an alternative," the magnetic manipulator said with a sly smile. The old man stood up and turned away from the camera. He reached up and pretended to scratch his head, but instead tapped it as a silent way of allowing his old friend inside. Time moves differently for a telepath searching through a mind. Events that could have taken hours, days or even weeks are scanned and memorized by the telepath in moments, sometimes as short as the time it takes to breathe in and breathe out. Facing away from the camera, Charles' eyes widened as he learned certain facts.

* * *

_Faith, Magneto and Stargate_

_Basic idea: Fury sets up a program to utilize certain prisoners for the well being of the entire world. He specifically chooses them through psychological profiles and history. The first two are Magneto and Faith._

_Timeline: vaguely movie universe, but not quite. Before X2, and just after Iron Man. The Daredevil movie took place, but didn't suck. Some back-history will come directly from the 616 universe. Fury looks like Sam Jackson just because I think it's cool. There won't be a big cast, but there will be a few appearances of other characters here and there._

_The Scoobies probably won't be appearing except in passing. Takes place vaguely Buffy season 6, Angel season 3, but there's little that will affect the story as a whole._

_SG1 probably will just make occasional appearances, but won't be main characters._

_As for the other Marvel aliens, just assume they live in other galaxies or not at all. I don't know if I'm going to use them._


	7. Forgotten Wishes

_I do not own any of these characters. Not even remotely._

* * *

Rupert Giles sat behind the counter at the Magic Box, attempting to solve the inventory discrepancies. Somehow he was either making too much money or he had severely miscalculated somewhere. Therefore, unless his partner had decided to not mention a severe price increase he had made a mistake. He had been working on the problem for several hours and consistently discovered there were several thousand dollars richer than they should be. As a British expatriate it behooved him to follow local tax laws to the letter for fear of deportation, especially for a foreign business owner. The inventory seemed to be in order with the sales, but where had that bloody money come from? Perhaps Anya had convinced a person that the lesser Hand of Ra was a Greater Hand of Ra; that would certainly account for some of the problem. He was so intent on his work, he didn't even bother to look up when he heard the store bell ring.

"I'm sorry, we are closed. I apologize for not locking the door, but I am a bit distracted at the moment. If you're a vampire, demon or cultist with apocalyptic designs, may I remind you that apocalypse season isn't until May, so do be off until then. And we don't keep world-dooming artifacts that aren't under a slayer's watch," he muttered, not even looking up from his notes.

The footsteps approached calmly, and fairly quietly. Giles glanced up to see four people, two women, two men, dressed in robes. The first was a middle aged woman had graying frizzled hair and a calm, friendly smile.

"Hallo Harry."

It was a familiar voice that he could place instantly even as the years had deepened it. "Hermione," he muttered under his breath before catching himself a moment or two too late. "Excuse me, I'm afraid you have the wrong person, you see, my name is Rupert Giles, not this 'Harry' you speak of. And I spoke the truth about the store being closed. I am going to have to ask you to leave."

"There is no sense in trying to hide it, Harry Potter, we know you have been living as Rupert Giles for the last three decades," one of the men said. He was nearly twenty years younger than the with a feral look and vividly shifting hair color. humph, Remus and Tonk's kid. I should have known.

"Harry, we're-"

"You're what? Going to bring me in for some trumped up crime? Need me to save you all for some other great evil? Don't you have some eleven year old kid to do your dirty work for you? Did one of our classmates go dark again? Let me guess, Malfoy?" Giles closed the distance between them as he through accusations.

"No, Minister Malfoy is not a dark wizard," replied the now green haired wizard.

"'Minister Malfoy' is it now? Good lord. I seriously doubt he's grown up." So intent on his rant was Giles, that no one noticed the back door open and close. "And I'm so glad the Amazing Technicolor Werewolf is here to enlighten me."

"Harry, this isn't how we wanted it to go," said the second man, holding back the younger man who looked like he was going to jump Giles. He was a little heavy set with black hair that had gone grey some time ago.

"My name is not Harry Bloody Potter! I am Rupert Giles and have been for over twenty years! I expect you to remember that 'professor' Longbottom," Giles snarled, shoving a finger in his face. "You're not an auror Neville, So why is the Professor of Plants here to collect a wayward wizard?"

Unbeknownst to the crowd, Buffy, Xander and Willow had arrived and listened confused in the next room. Giles wasn't Giles? Giles was a Wizard? And who were these people? Buffy was about to storm the room at the first sound of Giles' raised voice, but Willow stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Buffy looked back at Willow confused. Willow shook her head. "No, those people aren't all they seem. Watch for a bit."

"No Harry-er-Giles, We thought more friendly faces would ease you back into the fold." Neville squirmed a bit. "We would like you to come back."

"So what is it? A new Voldemort? Random ex-Death Eater killing people like my wife? What bunch of morons do I have to die for now?"

In the back room, the Scoobies looked at each other confused: Giles had died? Voldymart? Death Eaters? Giles had been married?

"Harry, We're sorry, but it's been almost twenty years since Ginny died," Hermione replied said, moving forward to brush his forehead with her fingers. "Your scar is almost gone."

Angrily Giles pushed her hand away. "Well as I said, it's been twenty bloody years, the bedamned thing just blends in with the other lines on my face."

"Does it hurt anymore?"

"No it hasn't hurt since that manky git bought it." Pulling off his glasses Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now once again, we are closed, if you wish to buy something from the Magic Box, come back during normal business hours."

"Harry," Hermione said pleadingly, purposefully ignoring his new name, "you don't need any of this, you're rich. You have vaults of money in Gringotts including twenty years of accumulated interest."

"Yes and Magic Fake Money pays for things so well in the real world," Giles said snidely as he slid his glasses back on his face. "I suppose I'm just going to take a couple of Knuts and buy a pint at the local pub? Good Lord you people are completely out of touch with reality."

"Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Hermione, if you had kept close contact with your family, you'd understand exactly what I am talking about," Giles replied exasperated. At her confused look he explained, "You were born in the real world, not to some self propagating abomination like the 'wizarding world'. That place is little more than a massive breeding program for wizards. No other place in the first world expects you to get married right out of school and have as many children as you can."

"Harry, it's not like that."

"Oh really? Then why is it they only select specific people and then give them power limiters?" At their confused look, he points at the wands in their pockets. "Your bloody wands, they limit your power. They try and breed as many strong mages, but they are ultimately afraid of the power, so they make us depend on wands like a flying elephant's feather."

All four look at each other confused. Giles cleaned his glasses as he walked back behind the counter. "Oh good god, I feel like Buffy explaining popular culture. It's Dumbo, go watch a bloody movie some time!" Giles sat down with an aggravated grunt. "They convince all the new people that 'muggles are bad' and use prejudice to keep the 'purebred' wizards from being interested in the real world. They even have laws from enchanting items that every other human on the planet uses. And in the 50s they put up shields to disrupt electronics. And do you know why?" Hermione, Remus' kid and Neville shook their heads, the last woman, who was perhaps Buffy's age with shocking red hair looked interested. "Because after the Second World War, they realized that so called muggles could easily destroy them. The Blitz proved that. You're vaulted Diagon Alley was utterly destroyed. But they don't teach that in the History of Magic. I wouldn't expect anyone but Ms. Weasley there to know what the Blitz was. And today it is easier to destroy you all. GPS and a nuclear missile would clear Hogwarts off the map. I don't suppose any of you know what a nuke is, hmmm?"

"Harry, I'm Granger again," Hermione said, shifting. "After you left, Ron and I started to have trouble. We're not together any more. Haven't been for fifteen years."

"Well that explains why the git isn't here."

"Git? Ron isn't a git! He used to be your friend!"

"I always wondered about that, especially since he ditched us when we were on the run from a fascist government taken over by dark wizards at the ripe old age of seventeen," Giles snarled, taking a sip of tea that had long since grown cold. The last woman who hadn't spoken yet was getting as red in the face as her hair, Giles could see her hands were clenched so hard the knuckles were white. "A real friend would have stood by us no matter how afraid he was."

It was about then, the Scoobies came in, having listened to the conversation. "Giles, are these people bothering you?" Buffy asked as she cracked her knuckles. Behind her, Willow shot them an impressive resolve face. Xander stood behind them both with his arms crossed in a vain attempt at appearing menacing; it wasn't working. Giles smiled at them as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Yes actually, where's Dawn, Tara and Anya?"

"Dawn's staying with Spike," Buffy said with a smirk. "Old' William the Bloody's a surprisingly good babysitter."

"Tara and Anya are back at Buffy's having a discussion about orgasms. It was rather embarrassing," explained a blushing Xander. Giles looked at Willow's face as pain flashed briefly across her features.

"Tara?" All three nodded soberly. "Anya's going to corrupt the poor girl."

"We aren't here to discuss orgasms!" The four Sunnydale locals turned to look at the fuming Amazing Technicolor Werewolf. His hand was going for his wand. He looked ridiculous.

"No, I agree, we were not. However, what are you doing here," Giles asked exasperated as he glanced down at the inventory list. "I hope it isn't to drag me back to a place I have no desire to return to."

"Actually we are here on official business," replied Hermione hesitantly. "We were sent to arrest you for tax evasion."

The Scoobies looked at her like she was crazy. For several moments.

Then Giles burst out laughing.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Lupin growled in response. Giles ignored him. "I do not need to pay taxes if I have not made any Magic Fake Money in twenty years; I have not even lived close to there in the past decade; I have not even lived on the same continent for the last five."

"I'm sorry Harry, but the order came from above." Hermione smiled, but it was a sad smile. "It's not the same place you left. It's...gotten worse. They changed the tax laws to include interest on existing funds as income. You are late by 15 years."

"Oh, 'the orders came from above'. Right from the desk of 'Minister' Malfoy I expect," Giles said, casting the papers out in front of him in anger. "You can take the bloody galleons for all I care, now I'll go back to making real money. Buffy, if you would please escort the wizards out the way they came?"

"Oh, Gladly!" Buffy smiled at the invading wizards; it was not a friendly smile. Stalking right up to the mouthy werewolf's child, she grabbed him by the collar.

"Stupefy!" Buffy felt a strong tingle, but was otherwise unaffected. She looked at Giles confused.

"Oh, yes Lupin, I forgot to tell you, Buffy here is the Slayer, so many of your low level spells will have little affect on her. She is nearly as magic repellent as giants," Giles said, not looking up.

"That's right, I'm the Slayer!" Buffy explained as she lifted the wolfy wizard by the collar with one hand. "And if you don't leave, I'm going to have to forcibly explain where the sun doesn't shine using my new troll hammer. You won't enjoy it."

"Oh and Willow, they cannot cast spells without their wands, so you might as well confiscate them," Giles explained calmly. Willow nodded and flicked her wrist, calling the wands to her. The four wizards looked at her surprised and a little, just a little, intimidated.

"Hee, just like floating pencils!" She quickly put her resolve face back on full force and her hands (holding the wands) on her hips. Giles bent over the telephone and prepared to dial.

"If you refuse to leave, I will be forced to call the police. Without your wands you are three illegal aliens, three of which have no identity and one who seems to have disappeared thirty years ago," Giles said smugly. "I am sure they will be very interested in four people with questionable identities and bizarre clothing. You might even be kept there for years. Or you could leave quietly and your wands will be returned outside. It is your choice."

"Harry, this just means another team will be sent with less peaceful intent," Hermione said sadly.

"Frankly my dear, I don't bloody give a damn," Giles said with a bitter smile. "I have a job to do, and I will not allow you to interfere. If you or another such group comes to arrest me, you, or they, will be treated as any other dark wizard on the Hellmouth."

Buffy roughly picked them up by the robes, two in each hand, and marched out the front door. She deposited them in a heap. Willow handed back the wands to Hermione. Buffy closed the door behind her before shoving a finger in Hermione's face.

"I don't care who you think you are, or how you know Giles, but let me tell you this, I have a whole bundle of anger bottling up right now and I'm just looking for a reason to pound something," Buffy glared up at the taller woman with a look of rage. "If I find out for some reason you have been harassing Giles again, a troll hammer shoved up your ass will be the least of your problems."

"I don't think you muggles understand the situation," Neville started to say.

"I don't think you-you whatever-you-ares understand who you're messing with," Willow replied, her arms crossed. She and Buffy gave them each a dark look before going back inside and slamming the door behind them.

"Well that could have gone better," Hermione said to Neville. He nodded sadly.

"I don't get it!" The redhead spoke up for the first time angrily, her fists clenched at her sides. "Growing up I here all these noble stories about him, and now I find he's just a bitter old man spending time around people half his age."

"I don't understand why we don't just go in and hex everyone to take him in!" Lupin's hair had turned a bright candy apple red with little flames flickering.

"I think that would be a seriously bad idea," the quartet turned to see Xander leaning up against a lamp post. "You're underestimating everyone here. And considering the state Buffy's been in the past month, she's liable to do something she'd regret later, but you'd regret pretty quickly. Willow's almost looking for a target to vent her stress on." Xander walked over towards them calmly. "Look, I don't know what kind of history you have with Giles, and yes, I know you want to keep calling him Harry, but that's not who he is now, but we stand together here. Buffy is the Slayer; Giles is her Watcher; Willow is a witch, and a damn powerful on too."

"And what are you? You stay with them, work with them," Hermione asked.

"I-well let's just say that I do whatever we need for support," Xander shrugged.

"You're just a muggle and you stay on the Hellmouth knowing what it is?" Neville gave him a look of utter confusion. Xander shrugged again.

"I don't know what a muggle is, but like I said, I help my friends," Xander said with a smile. He turned to the redhead. "And Giles isn't a bitter old man, you just showed up at a bad time." Thoughts flashed across his mind. Joyce's death. Tara's sudden bout of the crazies. Dawn's not quite real existence. A hell-god dancing around Sunnydale. Spike as a babysitter. A very bad time.

"He-he's my father." Xander paused at this, his eyes open wide. The redhead was cleaning her glasses just like Giles: nervously and without looking up.

"Well that's certainly something he's never shared," Xander muttered.

"He doesn't know," the older woman, Hermione, explained. "Her mother was hit with a killing curse and Harry just gave up. He apparated away and we didn't see him again. But, Ginny, Lilly's mother, was pregnant with her. For some reason, the spell didn't kill Lilly and we were able to save her, but it was too late to tell Harry, he was gone. We didn't know what happened to him for years."

"What's 'apparated' mean?"

"Oh, it's a form of teleportation," Neville explained, the professor in him coming to the forefront. "In our society we have to be licensed because people who try on their own can end up in other objects, leave parts behind and such."

"And that sounds bad," Xander said with a wince.

"It can be yes."

"So, he's not just an arse?" Lilly asked hesitantly.

"No, he's not," Xander said with a smile. "Give him a week and then come back. He's not going to be the same person in those stories, but give him a chance and you might be surprised."

"I might do that," Lilly said smiling slightly.

"Good, now why don't you all head back to wherever you came from before Buffy discovers you haven't left yet," Xander said with a smile. Hermione raised an eyebrow and smiled a little. Waving their wands, the four vanished, leaving Xander alone on the street. He carried the bag of donuts back inside.

* * *

_Twenty Years Earlier_

Harry looked at Ginny's corpse with a stunned look. She was gone, the baby was gone. He couldn't deal.

Ron and Hermione burst in the door and looked at the corpse with the same stunned look. Then they looked at the petrified Death Eater on the kitchen floor. His mask broken when his head hit the counter, blood seeping from the shards.

"Harry, what happened?"

Harry looked at Hermione as Ron held his sister's body. Harry looked at Ron. Ron was crying. First his mother now his sister. Harry looked at Ginny, or what used to be Ginny. He couldn't deal.

So he left.

A moment later he was in Diagon Alley. Eyes were on him. He knew what they were thinking: "Look it's the boy who lived" or "isn't that Harry Potter?" or "Hey, I've seen that guy in the papers."

Harry began to run. They all knew who he was. He needed to get away, to leave the Wizarding World. He left out the pub at the end of the Alley. They all knew who he was too. He ran until he was out of breath and needed to sit down. Day had become Night and the neon signs had long since flickered on.

Harry looked down at the wand in his hand. He had not let go of it since apparating from his home. He stared at it for a long time. And he broke it over his knee.

Walking along the street, he tossed the pieces in a bin.

He sat on a bench for what must have been hours.

"Hey mate, got a light?"

Harry looked up at a sandy haired man about his same age. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the magical equivalent of a lighter.

The man took a drag off his fag and sat down on the bench beside Harry.

"Name's Ethan Rayne," the man said, Harry shook the offered hand. "Some friends of mine are in town, come along, I'll buy you a drink as thanks."

"I might not be very good company," Harry replied.

"And that's why we're goin' to get good and bloody pissed," Ethan said with a grin. "What's your name, mate?"

He almost said Harry Potter. But he didn't want to be the Boy Who Lived anymore. He wanted to be someone else. He glanced around. There was a record store across the way advertising the J. Giles Band.

"Giles," he replied, mispronouncing the name of the band. Then he remembered that hellish thing "aunt" Marge referred to as a dog. "But call me Ripper."


	8. Dawn Corleone

_ It's that time of year again. Time to pull out the ole cliché trope and write another Halloween fic. I tried to get this out in time for the holiday, but it just wasn't going anywhere, so I'm classifying it as another False Start. So here it is, the crossover you probably haven't been waiting for:_

* * *

She watched as her sister went gaga over some crappy pink dress and conned Willow into wearing something no one who knew about the Real Sunnydale would ever wear at night. It was just slightly better than a bright glowing neon sign saying "bite me please, my blood is very tasty and satisfying."

Xander picked up a plastic gun. Big deal. Even though Xander was really dreamy and cute and funny and cute and loyal and cute, did she mention he was cute? Well, even though Xander was all that, he didn't really have much creativity for Halloween. Dawn Summers, on the other hand, wasn't about to let some troll get in the way of her fun and adventure. And besides, this was supposed to be a safe night, or at least a safer night, when vampires were concerned.

It took some time, but Dawn finally found the perfect costume. She opened up her purse and counted it out. She was thirty-six cents short.

"Buffy," Dawn said, tugging on her sister's sleeve. "I need some money."

"Mom gave you money, squirt," Buffy said, holding the pink monstrosity to her chest.

"But I'm short!" she protested.

"Tough," Buffy growled back.

"If you don't give me what I need I'll tell Xander about what you've been doing with Angel," Dawn said flatly. It was an offer Buffy couldn't refuse.

"Shush you! Now how much do you need?" Buffy said, holding a hand over her sister's mouth. Dawn licked her sisters hand, which Buffy snatched away as if stung.

"Thirty-six cents," Dawn replied. The blonde reached into her pouch and counted out the change.

She slammed it into Dawn's palm and waved a finger in her little sister's face. "Not a word, squirt!"

* * *

Xander arrived at the Summers House dressed in his soldier uniform. Ringing the doorbell, he waited until it swung open, revealing Buffy's thirteen year old sister wearing a tuxedo fit to her size and holding a violin case in one hand.

"A tuxedo?" he asked.

"Ah, Xander, what can I do for you on that day of my daughter's wedding?" Dawn replied in a horrible Italian accent. Scratch that, it was a horribly atrocious, Italian accent.

"Aren't you a little young to have seen the Godfather?" Xander asked.

"We have cable," Dawn replied.

"Fair enough," Xander said. "How's Buff and Willow?"

"Having trouble convincing Willow not to wear the ghost costume again," Dawn explained still in the same accent.

"How are you keeping the accent up?" Xander asked. Dawn opened her mouth and pulled out a couple of cotton balls.

"If it worked in Men in Tights..."

"Fair enough."

"Ready guys?" Buffy asked as she walked down the stairs, followed by Willow, who was trying to hide behind her shorter friend. She was not, in fact, wearing a ghost costume, but a very skimpy middrift baring top and a miniskirt that was more like a belt. Xander whistled.

"Looking good Wills!" he said, prompting a blush on a level rarely seen before.

* * *

Dawn woke up in her room. The events of the night before were muddled, but she stood up. She went to her closet and felt dissatisfied by what she found there. Dawn fiddled through her clothes and found a blazer, some neatly pressed slacks and a dress shirt. She straightened herself out and looked in the mirror. It seemed right.

She ate breakfast and stepped out the door where six huge walls of muscle with horns and business suits were waiting for her. As one, they bowed to her. "Good luck at school today, Signorina Summers."

"What? Who? How?" Dawn asked a little alarmed at the demons giving her such diffidence.

"I am James of the Hataka Clan, most people call me Jimmy Two Guns," the first demon said. He gestured to his three male and two female companions. "May I introduce Vincent, AKA my Cousin Vinnie; Anthony, AKA Cousin Fat Tony; Simone, AKA, Cousin Knives; Cousin K'lah; and Cousin Grakktch."

"Why do K'lah and Grakktch have such different names?" Dawn asked.

"They are freshly arrived from the _Old World_," Jimmy replied, stressing the last phrase to give it more meaning. "The rest of us grew up in New York."

"So, uh, why are you here?" Dawn asked.

"After last night we felt it was best to reaffirm our allegiances to your Family," Jimmy said. Vinnie broke in at the moment and bowed brokenly.

"May your first child be a masculine child," Vinnie said in heavily accented English as he attempted to give his speech. Jimmy slapped his cousin on the chest.

"Now is not the time Vinnie," Jimmy hissed. "The Dawn is needed at school."

Vinnie looked ashamed and bowed once again to Dawn. "I apologize," Vinnie said in his heavy accent. Jimmie gave his cousin Vinnie one last dark look before turning back to Dawn.

"My Cousin Vinnie isn't that good at much that doesn't involve excessive force, but he's getting better at just the right amount of force," Jimmie explained as an apology for his cousin's behavior. "Is there anything we can do for you while you are at school?"

"I don't really need anything," Dawn said, still a bit discombobulated at the rather sudden changes in her life. "But I guess, keep Mom safe and anything that would make life easier for her and Buffy."

"It will be as you command, Signorina," Jimmy said with a little bow.

* * *

Snyder was sitting at his desk contemplating how better to ruin his students' day, as he was wont to do, when four "men" in suits walked into his office bearing cases for various string instruments. Snyder, semi-aware of the woogity side of the street, knew they weren't just gangs on PCP. Of course the horns were a dead giveaway.

"We need to have a little _talk_," said Jimmy, clasping his hands in front of him.

"What are you doing here? This is a school!" Snyder growled.

"We understand you've been harassing the Slay-" Tony cut himself off as another one elbowed him in the ribs. "Harassing Miss Summers."

"Buffy Summers is a delinquent menace to the school! That's not harassment, that's a preemptive strike!" Snyder growled.

"It is in your best interest to cease and desist," Jimmy Two Guns said standing so he towered over the trollish man. "But it seems like you might need something to keep the memory of this conversation fresh in your mind. Vinnie, Tony?"

Vincent grabbed the principal from under his arms and hefted him onto the desk. Tony tucked the man's tie into his mouth to cut off his screaming. Then the first one pulled a baseball bat out of a viola case.

"Mr. Snyder, this is just a reminder, to keep things fresh, mind you," he said before swinging the bat down three times with all his strength onto the principal's knee. "I'm glad we had this talk."

And with that, the quartet turned and walked out the door, shutting it behind them. They glanced at the secretary and nodded. "You may need to call an ambulance."

* * *

Buffy walked out her front door in preparation for school and saw a guy in a suit standing next to her mother's car. Scratch that, a demon in a suit judging by the horns.

"Good Morning, Signorina Buffy. Have a good day at school," it said, opening the door to the vehicle for her. Her mother was in the front seat and seemed fine, so Buffy slipped into the seat, still giving the demon a hairy eyeball.

"What was that all about?" Buffy asked her mom.

"I'm not sure," Joyce replied. "He seemed nice enough, but I don't really understand wearing a mask like that after Halloween."

"Uh, right, mask," Buffy said, shaking her head in confusion. "So he just showed up like that?"

"Yes, at the gallery yesterday," she replied. "He said it was in his own best interest to make sure Dawn and I were safe, whatever that means. Although it does seem odd that he didn't mention you, Buffy."

"Yeah, odd."

Buffy almost jumped out of the car before booking it to the library waving to her friends on the way in. "Giles, why was there a demon helping me into Mom's car this morning?"

Giles looked up in surprise. "Excuse me, what?"

"Demon, Giles," Buffy said bluntly. "You know, horns, scaly skin, gray mobster suit."

"Buffy, are you telling me that you saw a demon dressed up like a gangster?" Giles asked.

"I've seen them too," Willow said. "I was walking to school and one tipped his hat to me."

"Hat?" Giles asked blankly.

"It was a fedora," Willow said seriously, as if it were a sign of the next apocalypse. "Demon with horns wearing a fedora."

Giles went back to his stacks. "Now, what did these demons look like?"

"The one I saw was pinkish, with rams horns growing out the side of its face, but it only had three fingers on each hand, plus thumb," Willow said. "I think the others were cut off," she whispered worriedly as she leaned in with wide eyes.

"And it was just walking down the street?" Xander asked stuffing his face with a newly opened twinkie. "Next you're going to tell me you saw cats and dogs living together in perfect harmony."

"It was really weird," Willow said, nodding quickly. "And it was kinda scaly, too."

"That's what I saw, sans hat," Buffy said.

"I do believe you are speaking of a fyarl demon," Giles said as he looked distractedly out the window.

"You know that just by our description, getting good Giles," Buffy complimented.

"Well, that and the fact that I just saw four of them get into a black sedan and drive away," Giles said. "I think I shall have to consult my books. And you three should get to class before the bell rings."

As the three made their way to class, they had to stop as EMTs hauled their trollish principal out on a gurney as he writhed in pain, clutching his kneecap. He spotted Buffy and instantly cringed and looked away.

"What the hellmouth was that about?" Xander asked. The other two looked at him. "Not that I'm complaining that Snyder got kneecapped, mind you. It's just odd."

* * *

The Fyarl demons were more common in Sunnydale after that. Buffy, Xander and Willow saw them on patrols, and they nodded politely. They had an almost continual presence at Revello Drive. When asked all they would say is "It is in our best interest to keep your family safe."

Willy, on the other hand, was discovering that being a neutral party in Sunnydale wasn't what it used to be. Four fyarl demons walked up to the most frequented demon bar in Sunnydale escorting the person who struck more fear in the hearts of demons that any big bad. Two of the Fyarls took up shop, blocking the entrance and exit into the back, while the girl and her "companions" made their way up to the counter.

"Willy, Willy," the thirteen year old girl said. Dressed in a gray pantsuit, she was, as usual, flanked by her two walls of muscle bodyguards. "You're late on your payments."

"Look, I'm sorry, money just isn't as good now that the Scourge got together," Willy said. "They don't come here for blood no more, not when Drusilla and Spike are pushing their weight around. Darla I could deal with, but Spike? Bad for business."

"That's what you said the last time you were late," the girl said. "You wouldn't want us to pull out our protection, would you? Something...unfortunate might happen."

"I'm sorry, what if I give you half now, half next week?" Willy said, sweating as the Fyarl cracked her knuckles menacingly. He slid about half of what he had in the register over the counter to her. She nodded to Wall-of-Muscle No. 2, who took the money, carefully folding it and tucking it into his pocket.

"I think that can work," she said. Willy audibly let out a breath of relief. She glance him over. "Tell me Willy, are you right handed or left handed?"

"I'm a southpaw, why?" Willy said.

"Tony, break his right hand," the girl said.

"What? But I just-"

"You only need one hand to serve drinks, Willy," the youngest Ms. Summers replied. Vinnie grabbed Willy's right arm and held it out as Fat Tony smashed the bartender's hand. Willy howled in pain, but the Fyarl kept the iron grip on his arm as the other went in for another blow. "That's enough Tony. Willy, let this be a lesson to you."

Willy nodded, tears running down his face.

"And you'll have the rest of the money next week," Dawn stated.

Willy nodded again, whimpering in pain.

"You might want to have that looked at," Dawn said. "Falling down the stairs is...painful."

Knives and K'lah stepped to the side and allowed Willy to run out. Dawn and her two companions turned to a certain flappy skinned demon. "Now Clem, what's this I hear about you and Max the Shark running an unsanctioned gambling ring?"

The demon in question, already quite pale, turned the color of printer paper.

* * *

Time passed. The Summers SUV was traded in one night and replaced by a black Bentley with bullet proof windows, reinforced doors and magically enhanced tires. Joyce was pleased to see the deed and notice of her "winning" a "contest" that gave her a new car.

Snyder learned his lesson quite quickly and didn't even look in the Scoobie's direction.

"That was...strange," Xander said as they watched Snyder turn sharply when he saw them coming.

"Yup!" Willow said. "Really strange."

"Ooooh yeaaah," Buffy said, drawing out the words for emphasis. "Hey, I wonder if Giles figured out what those fyarl demons were up to?"

In fact, Giles had _not_ figured out what those fyarl demons were up to.

"In truth, I am quite perplexed by the whole arrangement," he elaborated. "For Fyarl demons to be so...restrained, it is quite out of character."

* * *

Angel lost his soul, but he quickly learned that it wasn't the vampires who really ran the town. Minions, fledglings vamps and minor demons, normally flocked to a master vampire like himself, but now they were very hesitant to do anything.

He turned to Dalton with a confused look.

"Why won't they work for me? A little mayhem, a lot of blood, death and torture, all in the family fun that we're made for," Angelus asked. Dalton's golden eyes went wide and he nervously glanced from side to side. The bookish vamp leaned in close.

"Angelus, I know you're..._situation_ is a bit different, but you just don't go against the Family like that," Dalton said. "I think I'm going to Willy's where it's mostly safe."

* * *

A year passed and Dawn's Family grew. She bought up Angel's mansion as a Family Compound where most of her _Consigliere_ lived when not out on business. She'd also expanded operations to Burbank and San Francisco, though she wasn't finding much success in LA, too many evil lawyers working for other families. But her biggest issue was right there in Sunnydale.

"Mayor Wilkins," Jimmy said from across the man's desk. "The Dawn sent me to talk some sense into you."

"Gosh, whatever for?" Richard asked.

"Turning into an Old One and eating those under the Dawn's protection would not be in the best interests of your health," Jimmy said, holding his hands in front of him. He watched as the Mayor's eyes flashed to the bulges under the Fyarl's arms.

"Gosh darn it," the Mayor said. "I've made a lot of promises to those who brought me into this office and I can't just abandon them."

"Mister Mayor, the Dawn has instructed me to make this an offer you can't refuse," Jimmy reminded him. "It really is in your best interest."

"Son, you just don't switch horses midstream," the Mayor replied with his best "friendly politician" face on.

"I'm sorry it came to this, Mister Mayor," Jimmy replied before turning to leave.

Richard Wilkins the First, Second and Third awoke to a dampness in his bed the next morning. Whipping off the comforter he saw the bloodied severed maw of Lurconis staining the sheets. The Mayor screamed, whether it was because of the loss of his supporter or the unsanitary nature of the message was anybody's guess.

* * *

_A silly thing, but had potential to be serious in places. It was going to be rife with Godfather quotes and cliches, but alas it is not to be. I don't own the Godfather, but I think Mario Puzo does. I don't own Buffy, I think Joss does._


End file.
